


Taking Requests

by Melethril



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternative Universe - No Negan, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Slow Burn, They have a few things to hash out, Two badasses that deserve each other, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28344246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melethril/pseuds/Melethril
Summary: In a world without Negan, Alexandria and the Hilltop still have obstacles to overcome, including but not limited to finding a way to work together.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Jesus
Comments: 71
Kudos: 71





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CanonCannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Animal](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8942236) by [CanonCannon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanonCannon/pseuds/CanonCannon). 



> This is an AU. One of the things I love about TWD is all these different possible outcomes. We are shown one outcome of the story, but it could have all gone so differently. Here, Rick and crew arrived in Alexandria like in the show, but then it’s off to AU-land. Let’s just assume that the Anderson family died not too long before Rick&Co. joined. Murder-suicide. Awful, happens, and I would not put the possibility past Pete. Aaron and Eric were on the run to get Rick&Co. when it happened. So, they’re out a doctor by the time they arrive, and Denise has to step up, but lacks proper training. So, things are shaky by the time they arrive, but the Alexandrians cannot blame them for the problems already in town. Rick himself is suspicious, but not put over the edge by the mess with Pete&Jessie and Michonne beats some sense into him, so there is not as much Alexandria trouble, though it took the quarry mess and Carl losing his eye (during the quarry mess, which involved the Wolves) to straighten him out. The story explains the rest. 
> 
> I didn’t watch the later seasons post season 6, so I base “my” Jesus off of whom we meet in the first two episodes, with fandom!Jesus and probably a bit of comic influence because he was a serious badass there. 
> 
> Last note: I am incredibly disappointed they did not get together Jesus and Daryl. Really, the first episode is like a romantic comedy, and in the second episode Abraham is first talking about Richonne and then asking Daryl whether he ever thought of settling down. It’s like a damn good setup for these two, and disappointingly unused. One fascinating thing about Daryl is how long they kept his sexuality ambiguous. In one of my stories, I have him Aro-Ace. In my headcanon, I have him down as either Ace or demisexual with a preference for men when it comes to general attraction. I know they’ll make him a hetero man in the end (because Heaven forbid if a lead male character catches the gay), but for six seasons, that was not clear. In this story, he is demisexual who is aware that his preference are men, but he never acted on it, though it has been suspected by his father, who made him pay dearly for it.

_“I’m finally listening.”_

Daryl had almost cried when he heard Rick saying that to him, softly and insistently. He finally had his brother back. After months of pleading, coaxing and gently supporting him, Rick had finally found his footing back among the living. Daryl had missed the Rick from the early days, the one who had hope, who had led them through so much hardship. He was back, and Daryl had the urge to thank someone for not taking another brother from him.

_“It’s pretty stupid to go out there.”_

_“Yeah. Do it again tomorrow?”_

_“Yeah.”_

He had lost hope. There were shitty people out there.

Daryl had known, he had always known, but Aaron’s faith in his ability to ‘see good people’ had blinded him. It almost cost him the people he loved, his crossbow, and just when he thought that he finally understood Rick, the man pulled a 180 on him and told him to trust people again.

It was a shitty feeling, made him feel like he was always one step behind, catching up only to see the rules changed by the time he thought he caught up.

Now here they were, with a fucking hippie walking among his family like he owned the place.

Nah, that was not it either, the source of his discomfort. That had been his first impression of the prick who called himself Jesus.

_“You can tell the good people from the bad.”_

Nah, Aaron was wrong. Daryl could not do that, not like the others.

He was shit at people, but he knew predators and Rovia (he refused to call him Jesus), he was a cocky son of a bitch, but he was not a predator. He cared about his people, the trip to Hilltop had proven that.

Daryl respected a man like that; they cared for different people, but they cared. Rick was right to trust him.

He hoped. He could not tell for sure anymore.

Trading with the people from Hilltop made sense; Daryl knew that. It was just…

_“Welcome to Barrington House.”_

If Alexandria had made him feel like a goddamn mutt begging for scraps, or worse, a fucking Dixon, white trash, unwanted and unwelcome, the Barrington House made him feel like a diseased possum snarling at anyone that came near.

Alexandria had a lot to trade: manpower, weapons, ammo, fighters, skills like Reg’s profession (however grieved the man was over Deanne’s death, he never lost hope for a better world and Daryl respected that, too). And Hilltop had a lot to trade: food, a trained MD who could help Denise find her footing.

Daryl knew how much she struggled; they had bonded over her insecurities to settle in as a doctor and his struggles to settle in, period. He was confident that the only person from his group closer to the doc was Tara, for obvious reasons. As far as he was concerned, Aaron, Eric and Denise were his, too, and he wanted them as part of the family, but he noticed that the family had drifted apart, forming their own little groups and friends. Hell, Carol left him behind! Left them all behind.

Again. Without telling him. Right after the Wolves and the walkers from the quarry decided that Alexandria was a great place to burn.

Right after it was clear Carl would live from his wounds, she disappeared into the night without a trace. He never should have taught her how to cover her tracks.

Daryl could not help but fear that this would get even worse now: Glenn and Maggie had a baby to think of and Dr. Harlan Carson would not leave Hilltop, so it was clear, even if it was not officially decided yet, that these two would stay at Hilltop. Rick and Michonne, Carl and Judith, they were settled in Alexandria, and Rick had become the _de facto_ leader after Deanne’s death. Sasha and Abraham could stay at either place.

He blamed the hippie for breaking his family apart.

Even though he knew that was not fair. Even though he knew they needed Hilltop to survive. Seeing his family splinter before his eyes, it hurt him, and made him nervous. They were on their second trip to Hilltop, with Maggie and Glenn already talking about settling in, and Aaron and Eric excited to meet new, “good” people, with especially the hippie and Aaron making fast friends the one night he had stayed over. Rovia was not with them, though. He had returned to his home a day early to prepare the asshole Gregory for their arrival, to make sure he would _not_ decide to challenge Rick in a way that would end in bloodshed.

Rick may be better, but he was not particularly diplomatic or understanding with pretentious pricks.

Lost in thoughts, he looked outside and was surprised to see several squirrels chasing each other outside. Damn, he knew they kept Hilltop walker-free, but he figured they had hunted down all the game months ago when they still had ammo.

“Rick, I’ma go out huntin’. They got no guns and spears don’t make for good huntin’ unless you know what you’re doin’. There must be bigger game around than a few squirrels.”

Rick stopped the truck, “Be careful out there.”

“Always.”


	2. A Hunter Bold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul "Jesus" Rovia finds the perfect solution for their negotiation troubles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from “A Hunter Bold” by Ernestine Northover:  
> https://www.poemhunter.com/poems/Hunter/page-1/2019701/

Paul welcomed them all warmly, though he was surprised when Eric pulled him into a warm hug almost instantly. He had made a friend in Aaron, he knew that, but he had only briefly talked to Eric on his last trip to Alexandria. Still, the man was a total sweetheart and it was impossible not to like him, so he happily returned the affectionate gesture. This action also solidified the relationship he would pursue with these two: a platonic friendship. That had not been clear in the beginning because Aaron was totally Paul’s type. As soon as he had heard that the other man was not single, however, he had already known that he never would do anything that would break these two apart.

Not that he could if he tried. The only two people whose devotion to each other was comparable were Glenn and Maggie, and in a few years, probably Rick and Michonne, the latter of whom had stayed behind at Alexandria for protection.

“Jesus,” said Rick, holding out his hand for a firm handshake.

“Rick, thank you for coming.” He took a quick look at the Alexandrians. “Newcomers.”

“Yes, these are Bill and Gage. They wanted to see the place.”

“Welcome,” said Paul warmly and guided them all toward Barrington House. “I see that a certain archer is missing.”

“You noticed, huh?” smiled Rick and Paul had the distinct impression that the man was teasing him. While Paul’s sexuality was not exactly a secret, the Alexandrians had not known him long enough to know for sure (except for Eric’s whose gaydar was actually impressive). But then, he had seen the man and Michonne naked, and Paul was pretty sure the only reason he did not receive a bullet through his head and a samurai sword through his skull was that he had been too distracted ogling Rick to take in Michonne. Rick probably noticed that. Still, Paul found it curious that Rick would be using such a tone when it came to his brother. But then, he was probably using it to tease the hell out of Daryl, and Rick somehow realized that whatever Paul’s type was, it was not short-tempered, rough bikers without finesse, and found Daryl’s mild antagonism funny. Rick Grimes had a weird sense of humor after all. And a terrible taste in music.

“He’s out hunting. Said that Hilltop kept the surroundings walker-free, so there’s a good shot he’ll catch something. All wildlife around Alexandria was decimated when the walkers from the quarry pounded on our doors, so he’s looking forward to it.”

“I see. Well, nobody keeps him from trying. The game’s pretty skittish, though. We’re lucky if we see a single deer from afar.”

Rick’s smile was confident, “Trust me. If there’s game out there, Daryl will bring it home.”

One of the reasons Paul liked the Alexandrians so much, especially the core group around Rick, was their absolute faith in each other. Rick would cut off his own hand to protect any of his people and his people would die for him. More importantly even, Rick trusted them and their ability to survive and thrive in a world that made either very difficult. They were fighters; they were survivors. Hilltop did not have that and Paul hoped that seeing this group would make his own people strive for the same closeness.

“Nick! Margret! Ben!”

Gregory’s voice had Jesus reflexively close his eyes.

“Welcome to our humble home. Shall we?”

“Margret,” said Rick, smiling at Maggie. His eyes sparkled with amusement, but steely disdain had replaced his earlier, warmer expression. “Why don’t you and… Ben go ahead? I need to help the others unload the trucks.”

Glenn and Maggie looked like they would rather be out there killing walkers then follow Rick’s orders, but they did as they were told, following Gregory inside. With a grin, Jesus helped them settle in. He was glad that Gregory had not invited him in for the negotiations; he was afraid to show his sympathies just a bit too overtly.

* * *

It was nightfall when a call from the tower announced Daryl’s return.

Excited, Nick called, out, “It’s one of the Alexandrians. He has a deer around his shoulders.” He sounded like he could practically taste the venison.

“Told you,” said Rick and got up. He looked slightly less tense, but it now became absolutely clear that his earlier reaction to Gregory after a failed second attempt at negotiations had nothing to do with him being worried about Daryl; he simply could not stand the leader of Hilltop. And given his community leader’s personality, Paul could not blame Rick.

Together, they met Daryl at the entrance.

The man took one look at Rick and said, “No luck, huh?”

Rick shook his head dismissively, “There’s always tomorrow.”

He inspected the deer around his brother’s shoulders and whistled appreciatively. “You on the other hand…”

“Hell, man, this place’s crawling with food.” He then gave a sharp whistle, “Gage! Kid, come here.”

The young man ran over quickly to them quickly, “Yes, Mr. Dixon?”

Jesus lowered his head to hide his grin. The dumstruck expression on Daryl’s face at the formal address was hilarious.

“Gonna teach you how to skin and prep a deer, come on.” The boy trailed after him and it looked a bit like a puppy following the lone wolf, hoping for scraps.

“It’s good seeing him like this,” muttered Rick.

“Hm?”

“I haven’t seen him this ready to connect to anyone outside of the group since way back in the prison,” said Rick. Paul knew there was a story there, and a bloody one, but he did not wish to interrupt. “I wish the attack on Alexandria hadn’t happened, I wish Deanne was still with us; I wish a lot of people were still with us, but it brought us all together, and now, finally, Daryl’s ready to take that leap, too.” He scoffed. “’s not quite true. It makes it sound like I’m ahead of him. He gave Alexandria a shot much quicker than I did, but it came with a cost, and he didn’t respond well to getting burned.”

Paul looked at Alexandria’s leader, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Just putting his behavior into context. I know you two have been off to a rough start.”

Why would Rick care what Jesus thought about the other man?

“Meeting you two was tame compared to what I usually encounter out there,” said Paul truthfully. Hell, it had been fun. The door to his face and the fist to his jaw not so much, but he had to admit that the two men, as much as they had looked like trouble, quickly turned out to be two honorable men. He had known it when they unceremoniously dumped him on the street (but not without something to drink), he had known it when they had not outright executed him for stealing from them (after following him on foot!). Ultimately, that chase in the meadow had been silly and riling up Daryl had been fun. He had nothing against Daryl, and it seemed like Rick was trying to tell him that Daryl had nothing against him.

They both approached Daryl who was working in the small part of the kitchen they had used for slaughter that one time two months ago with their first and only bull calf. Currently, they had a grown bull and four cows, three of which had given birth a few months ago. That bull calf had been a feast, but the journey to said feast had been _interesting._ They had no butcher at Hilltop and some of the farmers may have slaughtered smaller animals in the past, like chickens and rabbits, but their people were mostly crop farmers and had as much experience slaughtering animals as a city boy like Paul. They had managed thanks to Olivia Sterling who had grown up on a farm and Simon Stewart who had worked on a small organic farm during his summer vacation where they butchered their own pigs. Watching Daryl was different from their slightly inept fumbling with the calf. The older man knew what he was doing, expertly taking apart every piece of the deer, including giving instructions to Gage on how to deal with the pelt and the bones (“Gonna be winter soon and we ain’t on the road. Can finally use all of the animal.”).

“Exchange of skill,” breathed Paul, excited.

“What?” asked Rick, confused.

“Gregory thinks trading with you is a bad deal,” clarified Paul. “But we know it’s not. Maggie and Glenn are going to stay here.” Rick stiffened. “I know you haven’t said as much, but we both know that’s what’s going to happen. They want to be near Harlan. Maggie and Glenn are assets. They’re fighters. They can teach Hilltop how to survive. Reg can help us with providing plans for the expansion.”

“Gregory isn’t interested in that,” growled Rick, his tone rather menacing. “Maggie has already offered that. And Gregory agreed to ‘letting them stay here and have Denise over for training with Harlan’ in return. He still won’t give us food.”

“More skill then. Daryl’s a hunter. We don’t have hunters or people who know how to hunt in the current world. He’s a tracker. His skillset in exchange for a steady food supply.”

“You honestly think I’m going to use my brother as some currency for food?” Rick’s posture was so rigid, he could have been mistaken for a statue. If statues ever wore expression that promised a swift, painful death to anyone stupid enough to answer ‘yes.’

“I’m not suggesting that,” said Paul. “I’m proposing an exchange of skill and supplies. You need food, you need a doctor. We need to learn how to fight and to hunt. I’m a scout and scavenger, but I don’t bring home game. So… Denise comes to us for training, Daryl comes to us to train hunters in the community. Maggie and Glenn teach us how to fight and we provide the food.”

Rick did not look happy about this, “And we’re wide open in the meantime for people like the Wolves. Maggie, Glenn and Daryl are some of our best fighters, and yes, Maggie and Glenn should stay here, but you want me to send Daryl here? For how long?”

“He’s a good teacher,” said Paul, gesturing at the gentle, gruff way he had Gage do exactly what he needed him to do.

Rick laughed without any humor in his voice, “Yeah, I know. He taught me. Yet, I’m still only scraping the surface on tracking and hunting. It takes weeks, months to be _passable_. How long do you want him here? And will the food supply stop, once he comes home?”

“Rick, we’re on the same side. We want our communities to thrive,” said Paul softly. “We can help you. You can help us.”

“This deal’s off if Daryl doesn’t want it,” said Rick sharply. After a moment, he added, “I’ll talk to Gregory first.”

“No,” said Paul. He had seen how protective Rick was of his family. He had seen how much the man loved Daryl. He would _not_ have Gregory sneering at the thought of Daryl being of any use to the community. He had the distinct feeling that this would end negotiations prematurely. And with Rick knocking out Gregory in the process.

And that was the best possible outcome of this scenario.

* * *

It took some coaxing and several dismissive comments that had Maggie’s temper boiling, but finally Gregory agreed to the deal.

Paul was about to tell Rick the good news when he saw him standing with Daryl. The other man’s posture was hunched; he avoided Rick’s gaze and he was gnawing on the skin of his right thumb. He was clearly uncomfortable.

“-only if you agree to this,” he heard Rick say.

“Where’ma gonna stay? Ain’t gonna stay in that house,” muttered Daryl lowly.

“Daryl,” sighed Rick. “If you don’t want-“

“’s for you, Michonne, Carl, Li’l Asskicker, the group, Alexandria. Can’t go far without friends. ‘s fine. Gonna do it, but-“

“You can stay in my trailer,” Paul heard himself say, his heart softening at the gruff man’s words. Daryl did not want to stay here, but he would do anything to make the deal between Hilltop and Alexandria work and Paul respected that. He found he respected the man a lot.

Daryl frowned for a moment before nodding slowly. Then, before they could exchange any words, Glenn came up and side-hugged Daryl, “Good to know you’ll be staying with us. Hilltop will be safer with you nearby.”

Again, Daryl nodded silently, still a bit unsure but obviously resigned to the decision he had just made.

“Okay, so you guys get your stuff from Alexandria and then you’ll settle in.”

“We already brought ours,” said Glenn, looking a bit uncomfortable admitting as much to the members of his family, but neither Rick nor Daryl seemed surprised.

“You Daryl?”

“Nah, got all I have with me. Just a few things back in Alexandria.”

Paul thought of the dozens of books and all the other stuff in his trailer and had to look away. Suddenly, Paul understood that everything Daryl had were the people he cared for and that this deal was stretching them apart. No wonder he looked less than happy.

“I’ll have the rest of your things delivered with the next group,” said Rick softly. “Like a change of clothes beyond your regular pack.” He then grinned. “And I’m pretty sure I’ll convince Jesus that it’s totally fine to hose you down if you don’t shower.”

Daryl scoffed, but his lips twitched, obviously amused.

As much as he enjoyed his privacy, Paul was kind of looking forward to having a roommate. He felt even better about it when Denise ran over only to awkwardly stand in front of Daryl and say something along the lines of “Just heard the news. It’s good. You staying. It’s cool. Tara will go back with the rest tomorrow morning, but she’ll be back soon.”

Daryl had nodded in response, “Good.”

“Yeah, cool.”

It was clear just how happy she was to have him close and Paul saw how much Daryl cared for her in return. He had a good feeling about this.


	3. Tales At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the last evening before the departure of the Alexandrians, leaving behind Denise, Maggie, Glenn and Daryl. Daryl joins the fire occupied by Eric and Aaron, soon to be joined by Alex and Jesus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am always surprised how there is little storytelling within the show. I mean, not every episode, sure, but when they are somewhere safe? There is no internet, no TV, no theater, no bars/clubs, music is listened to but sparingly and only if really safe. Telling stories to each other is basically the oldest pastime of human culture. Probably one of the reasons why the Cherokee Rose episode is one of my all-time favorites.

The deer was good. Hilltop had all gathered to enjoy the food Olivia and Mary had made from the meat he had prepared with Gage. They were sitting in groups of four and six around smaller fires they had started when there was still light out and now it was just the warmth of the embers left. Eric had called him to where he and Aaron were sitting, and Daryl sat down with them, not wanting to join the fire where Maggie, Glenn and Rick were forced to sit with that prick Gregory. Strangely enough, Rovia had also decided not to join said fire, and happily followed Aaron’s invitation to sit with them. Shortly after, Hilltop’s nurse, Alex, if he remembered Denise’ words correctly, plopped down next to Rovia, kissing his cheek in the process. The gesture took Daryl by surprise and he quickly looked down.

“I don’t believe it,” laughed Aaron, looking at Eric with an expression full of love and devotion (which was not that much different from how he usually looked at him; even when they were squabbling with each other, they still kissed each other on the lips. It was comforting, watching them like this). “You did it again.”

“Pay up, love,” said Eric, giggling. “I told you Jesus is one of-“ Before he could say anything else, Aaron leaned forward and kissed him straight on the lips in a less than chaste manner, causing Daryl’s face to heat up before he looked down yet again.

Rovia’s eyes seemed to gleam in the glow of the dying fire, “Pay up how?” He sounded distinctly amused.

“I thought you were straight, Eric did not and whenever one is proven wrong, they have to kiss the other person,” smiled Aaron, his cheeks heated.

“Doesn’t really sound like there are any losers in the end,” laughed Alex with a broad grin.

“Nope,” exclaimed Eric, smiling brightly. “That’s the point. Now, how long have you two been together?”

“Uh,” said Alex, hunching his shoulder a bit. “January to April, I think?”

“It’s October,” said Eric.

“Yep.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Daryl frowned a bit. He knew when Eric was sorry; here, he was not. Not really, it was the kind of sorry he had offered Mrs. Meyers when she had come over during one of their ‘threesome dinners’ as Eric liked to call them and had invited all three of them to a night of card play at her house, and Eric apologized for not being able to make it. Eric could barely stand Mrs. Meyers who apparently had made some really hurtful comments about Aaron one time. Why would he sound like that with Alex?

“It’s fine,” said the nurse, but giving Rovia a look that Daryl would have interpreted as wistful if someone asked. “Better off as friends.”

Before they could say anything else, Denise and Tara plopped down next to Daryl.

“Hey!” exclaimed Eric excitedly. “How’s training going?”

“Fine,” said Denise for a moment before adding. “Terrifying. Just the thought of something happening and me having to do it one my own. It’s utterly petrifying.”

“You did good by Carl,” said Daryl quietly. “Would have lost him without you. Makes you the best doc on the planet in our book.”

Denise pressed her lips together and nodded, “Yeah, well, let’s hope my next emergency isn’t that. We’re looking at amputations next.”

“Ouch,” said Eric, visibly shuddering, “More edible topics, please. What did you do Before?”

Both Alex and Denise had been med students when it started albeit at different stages, with Denise being further advanced. Alex had spent two years helping with the Doctors Without Borders, which led to an animated conversation between Alex, Aaron and Rovia, the latter of whom had apparently spent three years with the Peace Corp in Malawi, Botswana and Namibia. Daryl felt like a dumb piece of shit for not knowing where these places even were exactly and he did not dare ask. While Aaron had helped with transporting supplies, and Alex had been involved in some medical programs and Rovia had been an educator. It was fascinating to listen to, but it also made him feel stupid when he heard them talk about languages, foods and stuff he never heard of, especially when Eric chimed in on that, not having been out there specifically, but having stayed in administration of the NGO both he and Aaron worked at, and helped the organization that way. Apparently, they had met at their work place.

Tara, who had trained to become a cop before this all started, had helped out in her neighborhood. Denise then talked about her work in the food kitchen one summer back in Ohio, and Daryl almost thanked her for it; he had never gone to a food kitchen, his daddy would have beaten him black and blue if he ever admitted to being hungry to anyone. Still, he knew there had been other poor kids nearby, not Dixons – Dixons were the bottom of the barrel back home – but people who lived from paycheck to paycheck and sometimes, there was simply not enough money left for food. He remembered a kid in school, Thomas, his family had lived from food stamps. He was probably dead now.

Thankfully, nobody asked him about his work in food kitchens and the like. It was clear they knew he was a charity case rather than in a position to do charity himself.

They then compared notes on stuff they liked to do; It turned out that they were all quite passionate readers, though apparently, Rovia had them all beaten. Daryl did not know half of _titles_ they mentioned, but he listened quietly. He liked learning new things, and he learned new things by listening.

Somehow, the subject of relationships came up and Denise laughed, “Oh wow, this is practically an LGBTQ+ pride club or something. Well except for Daryl.”

Being directly addressed startled him and he ducked his head.

“Sorry,” said he and stood up suppressing a groan from the strain on his tired muscles.

“No, I didn’t mean that!” Denise pleaded, looking at him with wide eyes. “Please sit down. Please?”

He did, but he felt like all eyes were on him and, to break the tension, he said, “LGB-what club?”

“LGBTQ+,” said Tara, smiling gently. “Lesbian, Gay, Bi, Trans, Questioning, and everything else that isn’t straight. The Q can also stand for queer, which is an umbrella term for everything that isn’t the norm, I guess.”

Daryl frowned, “Thought ‘t was an insult.”

“It is,” said Eric softly. “It can be. But the queer community reclaimed it. We’re proud to be queer.”

“Hm,” hummed Daryl thoughtfully and almost found it funny that his brother had used a slur the LGBTQ+ community used to describe themselves. It was like a ‘Thanks for stating the obvious, asshole’ moment and he appreciated the humor in that.

“Personally,” said Eric, “I always loved ‘friends of Dorothy’ best.” Daryl looked at him, and thankfully, he did not have to ask. “ _The Wizard of Oz_ was an important movie for the LGBTQ+ community. It was affirming, powerful and brought a lot of people together. It also became a code word. Being “a friend of Dorothy” was the way to out yourself to others in the community, especially when it was illegal being queer.”

Dary loved _The Wizard of Oz_ , but he had only watched it once back when his mother was still alive. Dad and Merle both hated it and called it a movie for pussies.

“So, who’s Dorothy?”

Again, he had everyone’s attention on him and Daryl felt distinctly uncomfortable.

“What do you mean?” asked Rovia softly.

“If ye’re friends of Dorothy. Who’s Dorothy in that metaphor?”

He received no answer and instead was met with a round of stares. Instinctively, he ducked his head hoping they would just move on from the topic and feeling like the dumb hick he was. Nothing happened for a moment and he was just about to find an excuse to leave when Rick put a hand on his back and sat down next to him, giving the support he needed right now. He was happy to have the more eloquent man speak for him. Rick always knew what to say.

With Rick’s arrival, the conversation shifted, however, with Denise saying that this was a beautiful night for stories. Eric instantly supported the idea and looked up at the night sky. “Cassiopeia was the queen of Aethiopia. Poseidon, the Ancient Greek god of the sea, brother of Zeus and Hades, banished her to the sky because she boasted that her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than the Nereids, sea nymphs that were often found by Poseidon’s side. She now encircles the North Celestial Pole on her throne, clinging to it desperately, so she doesn’t fall off the sky.”

“Pegasus is close to her,” said Alex explaining the shape and which stars belonged to the constellation he talked off. “The winged horse was born off the sea after the blood of Medusa’s head mixed with the sea…”

They all knew myths like this, including Tara and Rick, and Daryl, who loved stories, listened to these Greek fables with the attention of a starving man. He realized that everyone else had fallen silent and that the entire Hilltop residence was now listening carefully. Rovia told a story from the southern sky, kind of blowing Daryl’s mind in the process. Daryl had heard in school that the night sky south of the equator looked different, but it was hard to imagine it. He only knew one sky, which he loved for the comfort it provided, even now when everything on Earth had soured. Still, he listened to the story of the constellation in that foreign sky, a story about centaurs, with apt attention. He was reminded of Hershel and his Irish stories, and Beth singing old tales, and for the first time, thinking of them did not feel like he wanted to carve his heart out.

“You got one, Daryl?” asked Rovia after he finished.

“Don’t know no Greek stories,” rumbled Daryl, feeling embarrassed.

“Some local fable then?” he asked. “Some hunter tale.”

“Nah,” said Daryl quietly, looking down. “Ain’t no great myths.”

The story of the Cherokee Rose he had only told once and never would again.

“Stories don’t have to be epic tales to be of importance,” said Tara. “The Little Prince is like the best story on the planet and it’s very straightforward if you take it at face-value. God, I wish I could read that story.”

“I got it if you want to borrow it,” said Rovia quietly.

“Oh yes, thanks. We should totally do The Little Prince next time, but it’s late. Daryl, do you have a tiny fable for us? It would really finish up the night.”

Daryl then remembered Mrs. Stevens, an elderly lady in his neighborhood who told all kinds of stories to the local children on Wednesday evenings, and Daryl had snuck out twice to listen to her; both times receiving a beating in the process after returning ( _“I won’t have a little pussy for a son!”_ ), but it was worth it, learning these stories.

“There were once two lovers,” said Daryl quietly, staring at the dying embers in front of him. The evening was starting to get cool. “They were not supposed to be together, and they were forbidden from seeing each other.”

“Why?” asked one of the kids from Hilltop. The boy had occasionally asked questions throughout the evening, so Daryl was not surprised.

“I don’t know,” said Daryl, thinking of Mrs. Stevens and what had been said behind her back, just like the Dixon family was talked behind its back (nobody ever noticed quiet Daryl Dixon who had been listening). “It could be because their skin color was different, or because one family was poor and the other rich.” Then he saw Eric’s and Aaron’s entwined hands. “Or because the lovers were both boys, or girls. Stupid reasons like that. Families trying to control their children, but not teaching them shit.” He heard Eric’s quiet laugh and was encouraged to continue.

“Anyway, the lovers ran away into the night and met with an old wise woman, asking for her advice. The old wise woman said that the only way for them to be with each other was to change, but that came with a price: they would never see their families again. The lovers thought it was a price worth paying, but the woman warned them again: not only would they not see their families again, but the change would take their memory of each other.”

He noticed that it was very quiet and he forced himself to continue.

“They would have to find each other all over again, fall in love again, but without any memory to guide them. The lovers heard their families calling for them and they knew that if they were found, they would never see each other regardless. So, they agreed and the wise woman changed them. One lover became a hawk, the other turned into a red wolf. Both felt like their other half was missing and they looked, and looked, the red wolf howling into the twilight and the hawk’s hoarse cry could be heard throughout the day. Always calling each other, but neither realized that they were called by the other. So, whenever you hear a red wolf howl tell them their beloved is near and when the hawk cries, remind it that it is loved. Their memory was taken and they cannot find each other, but they still know that their other half is out there somewhere, and so, they’re never alone, no matter how lonely they sound.”

Silence followed that until Eric emitted a sound that startled Daryl, and he looked up. The other man’s eyes were filled with tears, but he was smiling.

“We definitely have to do this again,” said Aaron, holding Eric close and kissing his lover on the cheek.

“Agreed,” said Rovia. His voice was soft and his eyes trained on Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Greek tales are Greek tales. Source: Wikipedia for Cassiopeia's story. The other Greek stories are retold from memory because I think storytelling should be spontaneous, even if it is not 100% accurate. Storytelling rarely is.
> 
> I made up Daryl's story.


	4. A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus welcomes his new roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next goal: 10 kudos by Chapter 5 :)

Paul realized he had barely heard Daryl string more than two sentences together before tonight. Even in that car back to Alexandria, with him ‘knocked out’ and thus believed to be only in the presence of Rick, the man had not spoken much. When he spoke, however, his people listened, and Paul had quickly come to revise his initial opinion of the man (a bit slow in the head, but a useful ram to carve a path through Rick’s enemies, be they alive or dead) and accepted that the man was intelligent, capable and had the support of every member of his family. They loved him, they owed him, and they were protective of him. Still, hearing him do something as objectively trivial as tell a story was captivating. His growly tone was made for storytelling around a campfire and it did not surprise Paul at all that he had the Hilltop residents hooked. It was time to go to sleep, however, and everyone started to head for their respective beds.

Alex wished him a good night, standing just a bit too close, but Paul did not have the heart to tell him off. He had been the one to end it after all, and Alex had had very little say in the matter. It was not that the sex was bad, they were quite compatible in that regard, but Alex wanted something steady, a lot like what Aaron and Eric had, but Paul could not bring himself to work toward that kind of commitment, definitely not with someone like Alex. Unlike Eric who had complete faith in his husband’s abilities, Alex had fussed over him every single time Paul stepped out, as if it was sheer luck rather than skill that kept him alive, and it had suffocated him. The thing that had completely shattered any illusion about a future together had been that one time Alex had insisted on coming along on a supply run for medical equipment. Needless to say, Paul had tried to let him down gently, and Alex had accepted it.

Unhappily.

They had slept together three times since and in the mornings after, Paul always regretted it because he was fully aware they were using each other, and that was not healthy. Paul had a hard time saying ‘no’ to people; he hated disappointing them and with Alex, he always felt like he let him down for not being able to commit, so he gave him what he could, and while it was physically satisfying, it always made them both feel worse. Alex because he hoped this would change things and Paul because it did not. It was a good thing that Daryl was going to live in his trailer because it would keep Alex from pushing it yet again.

Speaking of, Paul turned to look for his new roommate and saw him talking to Eric and Aaron before coming over.

“Ready for bed?” asked Paul, smiling mischievously.

“Hell, man, I’m beat,” was the reply and he looked at Paul expectantly. “So, where do you live?”

His trailer was a bit apart from the rest, smaller and isolated, barely enough for two people to live in, and before tonight, he had been its only occupant. The Hilltop residents had gladly given him that small piece of privacy because they were grateful for the things he did for them, and he was thankful for their generosity. Space was a luxury these days, and he knew it was not something they could afford.

“It’s not much,” said he when he opened the door to lead him inside. His trailer was cluttered with books but neat and clean. There was a small couch and a separate room with a bed as well as a separate bathroom. It reminded him of the apartment he had back in DC. Before. “Nothing compared to what you guys have in Alexandria.”

“Nah,” rumbled Daryl, his intelligent eyes quickly taking in his surroundings. “This is perfect. Had a place like this once. I’d worked at a mechanic shop for a few months in my early twenties, rented a trailer about this size. Fucking great summer’s what it was.”

“What happened to it?” asked Paul curiously.

“M’brother got outta prison, needed a place to crash, needed money. Woulda been fine, but Merle started bringing home women, and three’s a crowd in a place like this. Gave it up for something cheaper but with more room.”

“Well, you have my solemn promise that I won’t be bringing home any women,” said Paul cheerfully causing Daryl to huff in amusement, which in turn made Paul smile. “I thought I’d take the couch and you can take the bed.”

“Nah, no way. ‘S your home. Couch’s more comfortable than what I’ve been sleepin’ in before Alexandria.”

Just to see him riled up, Paul said, “But I’m younger and your back will thank you-“

“Ain’t that old,” grumbled Daryl.

“Think about it.”

“Couch’s fine.”

“Okay,” Paul smiled. Silence descended on them and he decided to break it by talking about Daryl’s new tasks, “So, how will you go about this?”

“Trackin’ and huntin’ go hand in hand. We’ll start with small game and work our way up. Also need to teach them how to look for walkers, how to cover your own tracks from other people, and how to make sure you don’t kill off too much game. ‘S the biggest danger right now. Walkers are always hungry, humans need to eat. Game’s bein’ eaten too frequently for a steady population. Gotta be careful, gotta count, gotta learn what to kill and what to let live.”

So, the best way to make Daryl Dixon talk was to ask about hunting. He would file this piece of knowledge for less fruitful conversations.

“That sounds like a great plan to me. Have you thought about who you could train?”

“Don’t know your people yet, thought you might have a clue.”

“Any preferences age-wise?” Paul asked, already thinking of possibilities.

“Late teens. Kids are easier to teach, but even Rick barely accepted Carl learning the basics from me when the kid was younger. So, between sixteen and twenty. Male or female, possibly some firearm experience, so I don’t have to start from scratch. That about it.”

“Carla, Simon, Johnny and Pedro,” said Paul immediately. “Good kids.”

“What do they usually do?” At Paul’s silent question, Daryl elaborated. “Back in the prison, everyone had tasks. Teaching takes them away from these tasks. Gotta find a schedule that fits all.”

“Oh, Carla and Simon help their parents with the crops. It’s October, so good time for that. Johnny is Earl’s little helper, the blacksmith,” he clarified. “Pedro doesn’t have any tasks yet. He has recently joined Hilltop with his mother and little sister. They weren’t out there as long as your group, but… Yeah. I think he might have picked up some things. His dad was a vet.”

“Animal doc or military?”

Surprised, Paul clarified, “Army veteran. Aren’t that many _veterinarians_ out there these days, are there?”

To his surprise, a shadow fell over Daryl’s entire face as he looked down, and muttered, “Yeah, guess not.”

“He brought his family all the way to Hilltop and then…” He had been too late. Five minutes earlier and the whole family would have lived here, as safe is it got in a world like this. His heart clenched.

“Sorry,” rumbled Daryl.

“It is what it is,” said Paul before forcing himself to smile. No need to burden his new roommate with all his past failures. “Pedro’s a good kid. I know he wants to help.”

“Sounds like a good group,” was Daryl’s response. “What have you planned?”

“Well,” now genuinely grinning, “I actually have not outings planned, so unless you think six people are too many...”

“Sure, no problem. Y’all make too much noise anyway. One more won’t make it worse.”

His honesty was truly refreshing making Paul laugh.

“Do you want to take a shower before you go to sleep?”

The look Daryl shot him was hilariously grumpy and Paul grinned at him, “Remember what Rick told you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You people and your obsession with being _clean_. Carol, Rick, even Michonne. I swear that woman spends more time in the bathroom than outside,” he muttered grumpily.

“I have some clothes that should fit you,” Paul laughed yet again. He always tried to keep things light, but it was remarkably easy around a rather surly man like Daryl. He was hilarious. “Shower’s over there.”

With a grunt, Daryl followed suit and Paul handed him a fresh towel and while he heard the shower being turned on, he was looking for clothes that were too big on him but might fit Daryl. He put his copy of the Little Prince on the table as a reminder to bring it to Tara tomorrow and changed into the warm, comfortable sweatpants and shirt he usually wore in the trailer, and settled down on the couch with _The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz_ , which he thought was quite fitting given tonight’s topic. Daryl did not occupy the shower for very long and soon joined in what Paul guessed was now their ‘living room’ as well as Daryl’s bedroom. Looking up, he came to the firm conclusion that Daryl should wear pale-brown cotton shirts more often. They made him look softer and since they were Paul’s, they were just a bit too tight around well-trained shoulders. Hey, he may not be his type and straight as an arrow, and Paul’s moniker may be Jesus, but he was not a saint, and he allowed himself to appreciate the view.

“’S the book of the movie?” asked Daryl gesturing at the book in his hand.

“No, the book came long before the movie. You want to read it?” asked Paul.

“Nah. Know the story.”

That was an interesting take on things. Paul loved reading, but he could see how someone might just care for the story itself, not so much the medium with which it had been told.

“Feel free to roam through my collection,” said Paul. “I’ve got lots of them.”

“’s what you did in Botswana and the other places you went to?” Daryl asked, sounding curious. “Brought ‘em books?”

“I’m a terrible book hoarder,” admitted Paul. “Doing library work would break my heart, but I did teach English to both local teachers and the students. And I taught science and math. I loved it.” He would _not_ think about the fact that most of these children had probably died in the past years. “Children are like sponges. It’s amazing how quickly they learn, and I loved working with the smart ones. But there were always the difficult ones, you know? The ones who struggled, but still tried. God, the moment when you could see the light go off in their eyes, the moment they _got_ it. Best moment ever.”

Daryl looked at him silently for several minutes. Then, he said quietly, “Probably would’a been more interested in school if I had a teacher like you. With the patience to teach the slow ones.”

Paul could not imagine a scenario where Daryl could be slow on the uptake. Yes, that had been his initial impression, but he was quickly proven wrong. He could not imagine any teacher not seeing the potential in what he assumed had once been a very quiet child.

“Well, let me know if you want to learn something I can teach. After all, you’re teaching me something I don’t know. _Quid pro quo_ and all that.”

“Who’s Hannibal Lecter in that scenario?” grunted Daryl, and it took Paul more than a moment to understand he was joking. He guffawed, and was surprised at his own reaction. Having Daryl Dixon as his roommate was definitely going to be interesting.


	5. On The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl takes the kid out hunting. Jesus tags along. They find something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the support :)

Early the next morning, Rovia left to gather the pupils for their first hunting lesson. He had them all wear reasonably suitable clothes and gear, and the man with the nickname Jesus wore the same leather coat, gloves and boots he had worn that first day they met. Daryl had not given it too much thought (except for scoffing a bit and imagining Rovia wearing these thick clothes back in Georgia), but it was reasonably practical for a scout who was used to doing solo missions and was specialized in hand-to-hand combat. The leather would keep off any unfortunate bites. Whether these clothes were fine for hunting, time would tell.

Daryl taught the kids the very basics of tracking and was pleased to see they were quick studies. Unsurprisingly, so was Rovia. He would make a good hunter, better for sure than Glenn who was the best scavenger Daryl knew (though Rovia seemed to be on par with him, from what Daryl had heard) but was unexpectantly squeamish when it came to killing his prey. Rovia was also better than Rick who had gotten the hang in tracking, but was otherwise not a particularly good hunter: the essence of a hunter was to make sure that the game did not know that a predator had picked up its trail and Rick was about as subtle as a charging bear… Rovia had Glenn’s agility when it came to walking through the woods (that time at the farm did not count; they had all been learning then), he had Aaron’s calm and ability to seem non-threatening and Rick’s ruthlessness when it came to delivering the final blow. At least that was his initial impression when the man quite skillfully tracked, stalked and killed a squirrel after only a few hours worth of lessons. He did look sorry afterward, however, and Daryl decided that they would stick to tracking and stalking for the rest of the day, and go to the actual hunting when Rovia was not around. How a grown man could make puppy dog eyes at a dead squirrel was an absolute mystery to him.

Around noon, they were out camping, eating the food they had found in the forest (though he realized that these would have to be lessons all of their own. How people would willingly poison themselves was also beyond him. Survival in the forest was not fucking rocket science. Even Neanderthals had been able to do it). Simon then asked when they would be hunting deer.

This led to Daryl having the kids record the game they saw, making sure they would not overhunt the area while not opening a buffet for walkers at the same time. The kids were very eager to learn and Daryl had not had this much fun since the prison.

After lunch, Daryl thought that it was enough for one day. After all, all these kids would have to go home and help their parents, and lessons were always tiring. Also, he really wanted to say goodbye to Rick, Aaron and Eric. They were on their way back when they heard it: a nervous nicker that had him edge around. He wordlessly gestured them all to remain silent. He ducked and listened intently.

There it was.

It was a brown mare, on the shorter side but sturdy. Her gate was steady, cautious, but deliberate and the source for her nervousness soon became pretty clear. A walker had seen her and was edging toward her.

“I have him,” muttered Rovia, “you make sure she doesn’t run.”

The man’s ninja skills were very useful in this context. The mare did not notice him and he dispatched of the walker so quickly, she barely reacted.

“Hi there, girl,” crooned Daryl as he reached into his pack to pull out a rope. Really, Aaron had a bad influence on him. “Nobody’s gonna hurt ya.”

He remembered Hershel telling him, after he had accidentally spooked the horse that would later become Michonne’s, that his movements were too silent and about as calming as a stalking bobcat.

_“With horses, loud noises aren’t good, but they know you’re a hunter and they’re not sure what you’re hunting. They are flight animals. You have to move like a horse, not like a cat.”_

So, he had watched, watched Maggie and Hershel expertly corralling spooked horses as if it was nothing. It had taken him some time, but ultimately, he learned how to move around them, so they would not view him as a threat.

It paid off; It would have with Buttons, too, but the walkers had disturbed the animal. He had the kids stay back and gently put the rope around the mare’s neck, “You are a good girl, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he muttered, making sure she would not mistake him for a walker. She snorted and he responded equally, putting his shoulder against her body. Instinctively, she rubbed her head and neck down his back in response.

“Good girl. Come on, let’s go home.”

Rovia approached her gingerly, his voice softer than Daryl’s and of course, she instantly decided that Paul “Jesus” Rovia was the best thing she had seen since the damn apocalypse because she instantly started searching his coat for sweets, which made Rovia laugh.

“’Course she must have belonged to some longhaired hippie,” muttered Daryl.

“No, I think she belonged to some gruff biker and this is the first time she actually gets an option,” grinned Rovia, his bright eyes practically radiating with mischief.

Daryl snorted, “Right, that’ll be it.”

“What are we going to do with her?” asked Carla, probably worried that Daryl would just butcher her once they arrive at Hilltop.

“Bring her home, feed her, then we’ll see if we can use her for labor in the fields or if she’s just gonna be a pet,” said Daryl. “Not taking her out here without good reason. ‘S like ringing the dinner bell for walkers, goin’ out on a horse.”

Rovia nodded and gently rubbed down the mare, which in turn put her head down and responded in kind so strongly, Rovia had trouble to keep his footing.

“Good,” said Carla, relieved.

It was then when Daryl heard it, the unmistakable footsteps of an approaching walker.

Rovia tensed for just a second, then patted the horse, and walked toward the source of the sound, “I think I saw some tracks over there. Maybe we can bring home some rabbits.” With a broad smile, he dove into the forest’s undergrowth while Daryl calmly led the children and the horse toward Hilltop.

No need to spook them and potentially lose the mare in the process.

He heard a tree branch snap, but nothing else, and it took him a moment to realize that Rovia had deliberately caused the sound to drown out the groan of a dying walker.

Damn impressive.

The younger man then came out with empty hands saying cheerfully, “It was nothing. Or long gone. Pity.”

With that, he stepped to the mare’s right and Daryl asked quietly, “All good?”

“Perfect.” His smile was wide and cheerful, but his eyes were serious as they looked at him, nodding subtly.

They would have to agree on some nonverbal signals, like whistling and hand gestures. Paul Rovia had just proven to him that he was a very silent, efficient fighter when the situation called for it. Daryl would not mind working with the man in the future. Even without having to tell him out loud, Rovia went ahead to have Hilltop’s guards open the gates, so that they could lead the mare inside, and she followed the younger man happily and full of trust.

“Wow,” smiled Maggie, once the door closed and she saw what they brought home. “Well done, everyone.”

The kids beamed with pride and so did Rovia.

“She’s a beauty,” Maggie continued, inspecting her closely. “I’m gonna get her some grain.”

Aaron’s reaction was the best. His eyes were wide and full of wonder when he saw the mare carefully exploring Hilltop.

“Thank you,” said Eric quietly as they watched the other man cautiously approach the mare now named Holly by Hilltop’s residents. “He really needed that. Buttons’ fate weighed on him.” Daryl hummed in response. Watching Buttons being taken down by walkers had been painful.

“Where’s Rick?”

“Preparing the car for his trip back.”

“You ain’t gonna go with him?”

“No, not yet. We thought we should explore Hilltop some more,” smiled Eric. “I really like it here. Besides, we wanted to make sure you were settled in first.”

“Why?” rumbled Daryl, confused.

“You’re not making friends easily, and Maggie and Glenn have their own things to take care of,” said Eric, shrugging his shoulders as if that was enough of an explanation. “The two people best suited to draw you out of that head of yours aren’t here. Carol’s… safe, I’m sure she’s safe, and Rick’s needed in Alexandria. We aren’t and you’re our friend, so here we are, making sure you’re okay.”

Instead of responding, Daryl edged just a little bit closer to the man, hoping it said enough. Judging by the broad smile, his message of gratitude was received.

God, he missed Carol, but with friends like Aaron and Eric, it seemed at least bearable.

“Daryl.”

Eric lightly touched his elbow and joined Aaron in his vain attempt to edge just a little closer to Holly, leaving him alone to talk to Rick.

“Yeah?”

“How was it?”

“Good kids. They’re gonna do well,” said he.

“And Jesus?”

“He’s fuckin’ horse charmer, ‘s what he is,” he rumbled as Holly trotted over to Rovia who was holding a bowl of grain with the broadest smile he had seen on him yet.

Rick chuckled, “I’m not asking about the horse.”

“I’d take him out huntin’. Hell, would like to go on a run with him. ‘S got his head together, ‘s quiet if need be, ‘s good with the kids.” The kids had been afraid of Daryl in the beginning; it was thanks to Rovia that they warmed up to him so quickly. “If I can’t have one of the group, I’d take him.”

“High praise,” smiled Rick. “So, good man?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” After a moment of silence, Rick added solemnly, “I’m gonna miss you, brother.”

Daryl nodded. He would miss them, too.

“See you soon.”

“See you soon. Take care of yourself, and Mags and Glenn. Try not to punch Gregory if you can help it.”

Daryl rolled his eyes, “You’re just happy you don’t have to deal with him.”

“Nah, I’d just shoot him.”

Alarmed, Daryl turned his head only to see Rick’s playful smile. God, this was him. This was the Rick Grimes he had followed for so long, the Rick Grimes he believed to have lost somewhere on the road. He had the urge to hug him, but ultimately, they settled on a pat on each other’s torso. Soon after, he watched his brother drive away.

By the time he was back from the gates, Aaron, Eric and Rovia all stood by Holly who was obviously enjoying the attention, happily munching on the grain Rovia had brought.

“Hey, boys,” he shouted. “Stop flirting with the girl and get movin’. We got work to do.”

Unlike Alexandria with its suburban style and tasks, this was practically a farm community; what the prison could have been without the governor. He knew what to do. If nothing else, he knew he was good for the heavy lifting.

“Did he just make a gay joke?” he heard Eric ask Aaron.

“Noooo, I-oh my Gosh, he did,” giggled Aaron and called out. “Nah, sorry, Daryl. Girls don’t do it for me. Good-looking men on the other hand…”

“Good thing we didn’t bring home a stallion then,” he retorted, his eyes on Maggie who was putting her hand in front of her mouth to cover her laughter. Glenn just chuckled. He had not seen Maggie this happy since Beth and Hershel were with them.

The joke was not that funny, but the three men dissolved into laughter.

The rest of the day was hard labor with Daryl mostly giving a hand whenever something heavy needed to be held, carried or repaired. By nightfall, he could feel every bone in his body, but it felt good, like he had done something useful, like he was part of something. He had often worked with Glenn who made friends easily and did most of the talking.

They were not the only ones hard at work. Maggie’s background as a farmer’s daughter was a blessing. The women especially gravitated toward her.

And then there was Rovia: he had seen him all over the community, giving a hand to everyone who asked for it, working tirelessly the whole afternoon. He seemed happy to do it, but he also seemed strangely lonely in the midst of a crowd that obviously loved him.

“Come on, man,” said Daryl once the sun set, prying him away from a conversation with a woman named Tessa who had asked Rovia whether he could look out for some cosmetics or crème or some shit Daryl had never heard of. She reminded him of some of the Alexandrian housewives who had never seen what was out there. “Gotta make sure Holly’s settled in.”

“Thanks,” breathed Rovia once they were out of earshot.

“Why don’t you tell her that this ain’t no make-a-wish foundation?”

“Because it’s the small comforts that make us human,” answered Rovia quietly. “I for one enjoy taking a shower, jump into recently washed clothes and bury myself in a warm blanket. What are your comforts, Daryl Dixon?”

“’Dunno,” Daryl muttered.

“There must be something,” said he, smiling at him. “Come on. What makes you feel comfortable and at ease?”

“A smoke?” he suggested, but Rovia just chuckled and shook his head.

“Be honest with me.”

“’Dunno.”

“Think. Close your eyes and try to imagine what makes you feel most at ease,” said he, sounding like he genuinely cared what some guy he barely knew enjoyed most in the world.

Daryl thought about giving the ‘I like bikes’ answer he had once given to Aaron, but then he genuinely thought about it.

“A day like today where everything worked out. Me bein’ out there, helpin’ the community, but without the fuss you have to deal with. Everyone’s out, sitting together, telling stories like last night. Me just listenin’. Rick talkin’ about some stupid cop story from before, Michonne teasin’ him. Glenn and Maggie lost in their own little world. Carl and the Lil’ asskicker just bein’ there. Livin’. Safe.”

Lost in thought, he brushed Holly’s coat and patted her down. Noticing the quiet, he wondered if Rovia had gone, but found him looking at him with a soft smile. His pale eyes gleamed in the moonlight and Daryl, for the first time, kind of understood why everyone flocked to the man who called himself Jesus like he was the real thing. In some ways, he was.

“You’re not asking for much, are you?” asked Rovia gently.

The deaths of everyone he had cared for flashed by, starting with Jim and Jacqui, whom he had barely known, and ending with Deanne, with whom he did not have a very good relationship. But they had been people who deserved to live. His thoughts lingered on Merle, Hershel and Beth, however, and he shook his head sadly, “Nah, man. I’m asking for the world.”


	6. A Night of Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregory calls in Paul to complain about the Alexandrians. Meanwhile, Paul bonds a bit more with their guests.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Some topics on homophobia are discussed in this chapter. It gets a bit dark.

In the beginning, Gregory had said very little about the newcomers, but as much as he was less than ideal as Hilltop’s leader, he was not stupid, and recognized a more skillful leader when he saw them. It took all but ten days until Paul was called to Gregory’s office.

“She’s questioning my authority,” said the man, agitated. “She wants to take over Hilltop.”

“Gregory, Maggie’s only ambition is to keep Hilltop as safe as possible,” said Paul soothingly.

“You’re on her side!” accused the older man and Paul almost responded that, yes, he absolutely would prefer Maggie in Gregory’s position if she wanted the position. It had taken Paul less than ten days to form a close bond with the strong woman. She reminded him of every good group home leader and every foster sister he had ever had and he was just a bit frightened how quickly he had let her in. Losing her would absolutely devastate him, Paul knew. He had always gravitated toward the older girls in the group home, the responsible, sweet ones with balls of steel if necessary, and Maggie checked all the boxes. She was an older sister through and through, and Paul more than happily let her mother him.

“You are the leader of Hilltop. Nobody questions that…”

Yet.

“But going against Maggie won’t help you. All she wants is a safe place for her baby. Do you seriously wish to threaten that?”

“No, of course not,” said Gregory. “We’ve always been generous with our guests. I mean, the two men, Arnold and Ethan, they’ve lived at Barrington House for a while now and we don’t ask for anything in return.”

“ _Aaron and Eric_ are leaving soon,” soothed him Paul, but unable to control the flare of irritation at Gregory’s rude habit to misremember names. “They just needed to make sure the Alexandrians were all settled and nothing was missing.”

“Yes, well, it’s been ten days. We are running out of stock for a whole list of different items. When will you be out again? The whole idea of accepting Mr. Dexter at Hilltop was to have him train hunters, not to have you tag along. Hilltop needs its scout.”

“Absolutely, and I will go on a run tomorrow, with Daryl, actually,” said Paul, “and we both agreed that, while we scavenge for both places, Hilltop will be prioritized regarding whatever we find.”

Daryl had not been happy about it, argued for a 50:50 split, but considering that Hilltop was currently feeding him and a lot of people here (excluding Gregory) had formed a friendly, appreciative relationship with him or became friends with those who were his – Maggie, Glenn, Tara, Denise, Aaron and Eric – he became rather protective of the place as well.

“I certainly hope so,” was Gregory’s cool reaction. “We’re feeding enough of them as is, and have received very little return. After all, Harlan’s, who has enough to do as it is, is tasked with teaching an untrained physician and on top of that, we must help feeding their people.”

Jesus gritted his teeth and remained silent, but he would not for long. The people from Alexandria were a godsent, with Maggie knowing how to store and secure food for what they all feared would become a long, cold winter, with Glenn and Tara teaching Hilltop’s residents how to fight and Daryl training new hunters. Not to mention the physical labor they put in every day. Gregory acting like Alexandria was a charity case was ridiculous.

“I’ll be off at dawn. Whatever you need, make sure you give me the list by then,” was all Paul managed to say without losing the smile on his face. It was replaced by a genuine smile when he stepped outside Barrington House and saw Aaron and Eric, arms around each other, talking to Tara and Denise. A car loaded with their luggage was ready to depart.

“Heading out already?” asked Paul, seeing their packed gear.

“Yes,” said Aaron, smiling at him, “it’s time for us to head back.”

“Why?” asked Paul, already missing the two kind men. It was extremely comforting seeing these two together, their love so strong it made him wistful. His track record with relationships was not particularly good, but seeing these two made him think it was actually possible. With the right person and if he let himself.

“Otherwise, Mrs. Meyers will be asking _questions.”_ There was steal in Eric’s tone and Aaron soothingly put his arm around his shoulders.

“Mrs. Meyers?” repeated Denise, a bit surprised. “She’s…okay, I guess. I get it, she’s very old-fashioned, but she’s reasonable enough, with me and Tara.”

“Oh, she never said or did much,” said Eric, his lips pressed together to a thin line, “but she has been wondering out loud how come that the two of us had a house all to ourselves when we spent so much time outside of it.” He briefly smiled at Daryl who had silently joined them and was standing between Tara and Aaron. “And yes, that was a perfectly understandable objection, and we never objected to having other people in the house, but then…” He shrugged his shoulders and gave Denise a thin-lipped smile. “We brought in a boy, fifteen, Marcus. He now lives with the Parkson family. We offered to take him in and were soundly rejected.”

Paul looked down, immediately understanding where this was going.

“Why?” asked Daryl, confused.

Eric looked like he was about to cry; his lips trembled as he reached out and grasped Daryl’s hand, which was dirty from some car repair work he had been doing for Earl, “Oh, bless you. She didn’t want a fifteen-year-old boy in the same house as a gay couple.”

Daryl frowned, “Why? ‘S not like it’s contagious or there wouldn’t be any gay people ‘round.”

Everyone else had understood and it was kind of sweet that the only straight guy in the group was oblivious to the incredibly hurtful insult Mrs. Meyers had dealt.

“Aaron figured it wasn’t worth the trouble and we didn’t say anything,” continued Eric, letting go off Daryl’s hand, looking at Denise as he spoke. “Then there was Enid and we offered to take her in, too. We figured there would be fewer _concerns_ and when Aaron said as much, Mrs. Meyers made it perfectly clear that, since Aaron was obviously attracted the ‘feminine type’, she would not trust him with any teenager, male or female, because he is obviously _confused_ about his sexuality.”

Aaron soothingly rubbed Eric’s back who was trembling with fury.

“So, Enid would not stay with us either,” Eric concluded.

This time, Daryl got the message. He looked furious, “What the fuck’s that bitch’s problem?”

Eric looked slightly mollified at the hunter’s indignation.

“Probably a mixture of conservative upbringing, lack of exposure to the LGBTQ+ community and bigotry,” said Eric.

“Nah, man, she’s just a bitch.”

Eric laughed, “Anyway, that’s why it’s time for me to head back. We’re rarely gone for too long and I know that if we take much longer, the old discussion will flare up again and I’d like to avoid it.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, then he said. “Well, you’re family. So’s you,” he looked at Denise and nodding at Tara, making it clear that Tara was family, and in extension, so was Denise. “We look out for each other. If they come again, we say that this is just how the family’s distributed. We’re a big group. Three houses seem fair to me. If it’s a problem, then I can always crash with you two.”

Eric started giggling, covering his mouth with his hands, “Oh, please, yes, let me tell her that the hunk of a man she’s been salivating about with the other middle-aged ladies while simultaneously being scandalized about his roguish appearance, is now living with us.”

Paul laughed at Eric’s enthusiasm and Aaron looked at his partner fondly.

Daryl’s face reddened slightly, but he did not seem to mind.

“Or we could move in,” suggested Tara. “Once we get back from Hilltop. They can’t really complain about two men and two women living together.”

“It’s a plan,” said Aaron, and then added, “Thank you, Daryl. Thanks, Tara. It’s an honor being part of your family.”

Denise nodded, her eyes glistening, “Yeah, I’ve… I lost mine.”

Tara held her closer and Daryl nodded sympathetically, “Lots of people around these days who’ve lost their family. Glad that our’s growing.”

Paul smiled, but could not prevent the painful stab in the heart he felt at feeling like an outsider.

“Well,” said Eric, “and to add to this plan, I have an invitation to make. All of you,” he specifically looked at Paul, “are invited to pasta nights. They are every Tuesday, and you’re always welcome. Give us a warning, so that we know how much to prepare, but whenever you are in Alexandria, come over.”

Paul thanked him for the kind offer and Aaron finished loading the car.

“Who’s goin’ back with you?” asked Daryl.

“Just the two of us.”

“Nah, no way,” was the immediate protest. “Ain’t safe.”

“We’ve been out on the road, too, remember?” reminded him Aaron dryly.

“Yeah, but you had to. No need to take risks now,” was Daryl’s immediate, firm response.

“I actually agree with Daryl,” Paul decided to chime in. If something happened to these two, he would not be able to forgive himself. “Daryl and I are going on a run tomorrow. We can accompany you to Alexandria and then go on our way.”

It did not take a lot of coaxing because Aaron had not been too enthusiastic about going on the road either. Still, when they parted ways since everyone had something to do, Daryl murmured quietly, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

It was too cold for another evening outside, but Gregory had invited Hilltop’s residents to the Barrington House. The same group formed as on that first night, and Paul noticed how longingly Glenn and Maggie glanced at them, probably wishing they could join them without offending Gregory. An addition to the group was Harlan and his wife, who were very easy to talk to. Daryl was rather quiet, Paul noticed. He was not a particularly chatty person to begin with, but still, Paul had noticed distinct stages of Daryl interacting with people. If no family member was present, Daryl’s responses tended to be in the monosyllabic-if-at-all-vocal range, whereas with a family member present, he at least spoke occasionally. While he was not exactly chatty with family only, but he was much more willing to say what was on his mind.

Currently, he was trending toward the monosyllables even though he was surrounded by family, but then tonight’s chosen topic of entertainment was poetry.

_“There are many who say that a dog has its day,  
_ _And a cat has a number of lives;  
_ _There are others who think that a lobster is pink,  
_ _And that bees never work in their hives.  
_ _There are fewer, of course, who insist that a horse  
_ _Has a horn and two humps on its head,  
_ _And a fellow who jests that a mare can build nests  
_ _Is as rare as a donkey that's red.  
_ _Yet in spite of all this, I have moments of bliss,  
_ _For I cherish a passion for bones,  
_ _And though doubtful of biscuit, I'm willing to risk it,  
_ _And I love to chase rabbits and stones.  
_ _But my greatest delight is to take a good bite  
_ _At a calf that is plump and delicious;  
_ _And if I indulge in a bite at a bulge,  
_ _Let's hope you won't think me too vicious.”_

“ _The Song of the Mischievous Dog_ by Dylan Thomas,” said Paul. “He wrote that when he was eleven.” He frowned a bit at Alex who had just recited the poem. Not because there was anything wrong with it, just that he had looked at Daryl while reciting it, and he had announced his choice by saying something along the lines of ‘Daryl will enjoy this one.’

“Daryl’s a hunter,” Alex shrugged his shoulders. “I thought he would appreciate it.”

“Sounded good, man,” said Daryl quietly. “I like it. Straightforward. Simple.”

That had been the whole point and Paul was honestly insulted on Daryl’s behalf. It was not a bad poem, not at all, but it was Alex’ subtle way of expressing what he thought of Daryl’s level of intelligence.

Or Paul was just reading into things, even though he doubted it. Paul, Denise Eric and Aaron had recited some of the classics, more or less (sometimes a lot less) accurately. Harlan and his wife were never much into poetry, but always enjoyed doing poem analysis during their college years, so they talked about that a bit. Tara contributed to that as well even though she had hated poetry in high school; she enjoyed the more technical discussions. The conversation had been complex, yes, but Paul did not doubt that Daryl – even though he had only been listening – understood the subtleties of their discussions. For Alex to blatantly indicate that an eleven-year-old’s poem about a _dog_ was more in Daryl’s lane… Even if it was not meant to be insulting, Paul could not approve of it.

“Wasn’t he the Independence Day guy?” asked Tara. “ _’We will not go quietly into the night_ ’ etc.?”

“Yeah,” said Daryl. “But different. Was called ‘ _Do not go gentle into that good night.’”_

Silence followed and Paul suddenly realized that they were just as prejudiced against Daryl as Alex. Daryl, neither stupid nor unperceptive, noticed and hunched a little bit. His obvious discomfort drew Maggie and Glenn over to make sure their family was well. To Paul’s surprise, it did not help. Making himself even smaller and avoiding both Glenn and Maggie’s gaze, he explained.

“’M brother, he loved that fucking speech. Recited it all the damn time. Knew what it was, knew where it came from…

_Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,  
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,  
Do not go gentle into that good night.’_

Merle loved the ‘wild men’ line. Oddly fitting now if you think about it. I wonder if he thought of it in the end.

_‘Do not go gentle into that good night.  
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’”_

Daryl sighed, lowered his head and Paul wanted to hug him. “Ain’t no way to go gentle anymore.”

From the few things Daryl had let slip, and given Glenn’s look of pure rage at the mention of his name, Paul figured that ‘going gentle into the night’ had not been Merle’s way.

Just like that first night, it was Daryl who ended their little exchange with his own recital and Paul felt awful for not being one bit better in his assumptions than Alex. Mirroring that first night at the fire, their conversation then drifted back to Before. It was Harlan’s mention of the fact that they needed coolers and freezers to store drugs, including but not limited to blood. They could not always count on the fact that enough people would be able to donate on the day it was needed. They needed to think of ways to take and store it. This led to Harlan asking Eric and Alex for details as they had both organized blood drives, Alex as a med student, and Eric for the red cross.

“Ironic,” scoffed Alex, “that we were able to organize but not donate.”

“Why?” asked Nancy, Harlan’s wife.

“Men who had sex with men after 1977, and if it was only once, are banned from donating blood.”

“Cause of AIDS?” asked Daryl, frowning.

“Yes,” said Eric. “Well, it’s based on that and I understand why the ban existed in the beginning. People were scared of contracting it and little was known, but after diagnostics were improved and science provided a better understanding of HIV, it was mostly discriminatory. Aaron and I are both clean. We’ve been together for fifteen years, and we’re in an exclusive relationship. My chances of contracting HIV are as close to zero as it gets. Yet, because apparently, homosexual men go at it like rabbits, indiscriminately and without protection, neither of us were able to donate Before. It’s mostly homophobia.”

Daryl frowned and looked at Denise and Tara, “What about-?”

“Just the men,” said Denise, sounding sad and sympathetic.

“Stupid,” scoffed Tara.

“Yeah,” said Eric with a trembling smile aimed at Tara. “Makes you feel like shit.”

“’S stupid, too. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. You love who you love. Ain’t enough love out there anyway.”

Aaron beamed at the other man, but that was nothing compared to Eric who looked like this almost made him cry.

“I would have loved to have known you Before,” said Eric.

“Nah,” said Daryl, again avoiding the attention. “Yeh wouldn’t. Was a narrowminded, backwoods hick. Wasn’t nobody. Would have been a prick to you.”

“You tell yourself that,” Eric dismissed it. “You’re a good man, Daryl Dixon.”

“You’d have seen me with Merle. He wasn’t-I wouldn’t a’been nice to yeh.” He briefly looked up, only to avoid their gaze a moment later. “Any of you.”

Glenn’s jaw was clenched, but he did not say anything. The rest of the group was quiet.

“Well,” said Paul lightly, “you’re here now and we like you, so who cares.”

It was enough to break the spell and switch to lighter topics.

He did track down Glenn afterwards, though, who told him, in great detail, why he hoped that Merle Dixon was currently burning in Hell.

Daryl had to miss his brother and Paul was sympathetic, but he was also glad he never had to meet Merle. That would have ended in more blood than Paul was used to finishing conversations. He just knew it. Moreover, he never would have had the opportunity to see who Daryl was without his older brother’s influence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks, poetry was never my thing and if at all, then poetry written in German....
> 
> On blood donation: Season 6 of TWD came out in 2010. In the US, men who have sex with men after 1977 had a lifetime ban against donating from Sept 1985 to Dec 2015. So, assuming that TWD actually started in 2010, the Status Quo for Aaron, Eric, Alex and Jesus when it all started would have been that none of them could actually donate blood. So yeah…
> 
> References:  
> https://www.redcrossblood.org/donate-blood/how-to-donate/eligibility-requirements/lgbtq-donors.html  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blood_donation_restrictions_on_men_who_have_sex_with_men#cite_note-107  
> https://www.ajmc.com/view/fdas-revised-blood-donation-guidance-for-gay-men-still-courts-controversy  
> https://www.panmacmillan.com/blogs/literary/dylan-thomas-welsh-poems  
> https://poets.org/poem/do-not-go-gentle-good-night


	7. On A Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl meets his family and has a lot to think about...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very introspective. Since Daryl doesn't really talk much, I think he spends a lot of time inside of his head.

Daryl had never lived with anyone that was not either blood or family.

It had taken him many months, actually years, to see that there was a difference between the two. His mom and Merle, they had been both. His dad, on paper, may have been family, but he sure as hell had not acted like it. When his mom and Merle had still been around, life with Will Dixon had not been easy but bearable. After Merle left, it became more difficult. After his mother’s death, it became a nightmare.

Unlike what people might think, Daryl had spent his childhood in two houses: both crappy, small and poor; they had been the poorest family in the neighborhood of a small town where nobody was rich, but they had all lived in houses. The only time he had lived in a trailer had been that summer after turning eighteen when he left his father’s house right before Merle came back after he being discharged from his stint in military prison. It had been one of the best summers in his life.

The trailer had been small, but it had been _his._ He had more or less steady work as a parttime mechanic and plenty of time out in the woods. It had been the closest thing to perfection in an imperfect world. Then Merle had returned and, well, like he told Rovia, things changed. Things always changed. Daryl had followed Merle, as he always did, and he still missed him so much it felt like a constant ache sometimes.

Ultimately, he had grown up in a home that did not love him, then spent only a few months alone in a home of his own before following Merle around, a no-good drifter without a future and without friends. It was kind of ironic that the world had to end for him to connect to anyone that was not blood. Instead, he found family.

The prison and Alexandria followed, and – because apparently, he could not outrun his past – a lot of wandering in between. The prison had been the first time in his life where he built lasting connections to people that were not blood, but the grief that came from it had spoiled most of his memories. He could not think of quiet nights in the prison without missing Beth’s voice, could not remember Hershel’s guidance without seeing his head fall, could not think of the few moments he had felt a true connection to his brother without…

Alexandria was another story entirely. The place was not made for a redneck piece of trash, and he knew that many of the longstanding inhabitants of Alexandria feared him. He stayed because his family was there and he would not leave Rick, Michonne, Carl and the little asskicker for the world. He had come to accept that home was people, and that included Aaron and Eric, Maggie and Glenn, Abraham, Rosita, Sasha, Denise, Tara, even fucking Eugene, as downright bizarre as he was sometimes. And they were scattered now, living either at Hilltop or Alexandria… or wherever the fuck Carol disappeared to.

God, he missed her so much!

In Alexandria, he lived with Rick, but it did not feel like his house. It was home because the family was there, but inside of that house, he still felt like an intruder. Whenever he was in the Barrington House to see family, he felt like a critter defiling the place.

However, he did not feel like this in Rovia’s trailer. The space was much smaller than either house and he knew he had to disrupt the routines of Hilltop’s top scout quite a bit, so he took extra-care not to disturb the man, made sure to clean up after himself, and spoke little in the trailer. Rovia was not nearly as chatty in his home than he was outside of it. He usually had his nose in a book, and on the rare occasions they were both in the trailer during the day, they barely exchanged any words with each other. Daryl found it quite comfortable. Rovia was very quiet, too, sometimes sneaking past Daryl with him barely noticing, very much to his chagrin.

Once he had literally jumped after the man announced his presence behind him. It probably should have annoyed him more, but the man had laughed so heartfelt at his reaction that Daryl did not have the heart to shout at him in return. Paul Rovia laughed very little as it was. That observation had surprised Daryl because he would have thought that a man with such a mischievous streak and puckish humor, would laugh all the time, but he did not. He was very quiet in his home, which gave Daryl the impression that his easy manners out and about Hilltop were almost as much of an act as Carol’s housewife act back in Alexandria when they arrived. Not that he was not cheerful, smart as a whip, quick-witted and annoyingly optimistic, but inside of his trailer, this was all toned down.

In this trailer, he was not ‘Jesus.’

He was Paul.

Daryl found he quite preferred Paul.

“Ready to head out?” asked Rovi-Paul, stepping out of the small bathroom, wearing a shirt and his dark cargo pants, his hair tied into a bun.

Daryl nodded having packed his gear into the car already.

“I’m looking forward to this,” said Paul cheerfully.

That was the thing. A lot about him reminded Daryl of Beth and Eric: Paul refused to let the world drag him down. Even though he was more subdued in his own home, he believed in a better future and in the good in people, but unlike Beth, there was always a certain level of steel in his eyes, demonstrating that he knew what he was doing and what the world could be like. Paul reminded him of both Carol and Rick, but unlike these two, Paul never stopped caring about everyone. It made him more vulnerable than Carol who had decided that anyone who was not _hers_ could go straight to hell, and saner than Rick who had tried both (caring for the whole world and caring for only his dearest) and now went for the middle-ground.

What worried Daryl was that Paul did not seem to have anybody. Yes, Hilltop’s residents loved him – and Alex in particular seemed to have a very great interest in him – but Daryl had so far not witnessed anyone who put him above anyone else. That was not right. The man did so much for this place, he should have someone to watch his back like Glenn and Maggie had each other, or Rick and Michonne, Aaron and Eric, or like Sasha and Tyreese, like Daryl used to have Carol and _vice versa_ , before she went off.

He still remembered Paul’s surprise when Daryl had insisted on going on the run with him, and how he had smiled at him once he realized that Daryl did not doubt his abilities but that he believed there was no need to do this kind of shit on your own.

Since nobody was there to have Paul’s back, Daryl willingly stepped up. He just hoped it would stay that way after his training here was done and he returned to Alexandria. He could talk to some people, feel them out. Alex may not go outside the walls, but if he just had Paul’s back within, it would already help a whole lot. Eric did not accompany Aaron either anymore, because his presence outside the walls worried Aaron sick, but he was Aaron’s whole world regardless.

Speaking of the two, they would accompany them to Alexandria and then Daryl and Paul would go on a run from there before spending the night at Alexandria, and returning to the next day. It was a tight schedule, but they could manage.

“So, what do we need to keep an eye out for?” asked Daryl once they were in a car behind Aaron and Eric.

“Let’s see,” said Paul fiddling with five different lists. “Okay, so Harlan has a list of stuff, which he summarized to _‘anything that looks remotely medical and if it’s just an aspirin’.”_

Daryl nodded grimly, “Should keep an eye out for natural remedies, too, and if it’s just a book on it. Them drugs are running out. If not today then in a couple of years. Gotta have alternatives.”

“Agreed,” said Paul. “Any ideas?”

“Talk to Eugene. He’s got a brain for stuff like that. Maybe he knows how to make some of that shit. What else?”

“Earl’s list can be summarized to _‘anything that looks like a weapon or could be made into one.’_ He specifically needs new tools.”

“Yeah, we need more tools for car repair, too,” said Daryl. “What about food?”

“Just food. Nothing specific,” sighed Paul. “We just grab everything.”

Daryl nodded, “What else?”

“Okay, so feminine hygiene products,” said Paul, reading through another list, “condoms, contraceptives if they aren’t expired already.” Daryl’s felt his cheeks redden, causing Paul to smile, “No sex toys, but I’m sure some lube would be appreciated.”

“Oh hell, man!” exclaimed Daryl, doing his best not to swerve from sheer embarrassment.

“What? Trust me, it’s not just for the guys. The ladies will thank us,” laughed the scout and Daryl ducked his head. He did not need to know that shit.

“Razorblades, shampoo, soap, every bathroom utensil you can think of…”

“Toothpaste toothbrushes, mouthwash,” Daryl added.

“Yeah, then some lotion and sunscreen. Bug spray.”

“Can always use mud and animal droppings for that,” dismissed Daryl.

Paul was quiet before chuckling quietly, “Yeah… no. Bug spray is a must.”

“That all?”

“No, here’s Gregory’s list. Let’s see…”

When Paul did not say anything for a moment, Daryl looked over, “Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah,” said Paul quietly. “He wants a typewriter, paper, and-Never mind, this is not our priority.”

“Where would we get a typewriter anyway?” asked Daryl, confused. “Computers are useless these days and hardly anyone used mechanical typewriters when it happened. What does he want it for?”

“I’m guessing… hoping it’s for writing records. You know, for future generations. Preservation of knowledge. Perhaps a compilation of our experiences,” said Paul quietly.

“What do you think it could be?” asked Daryl curiously.

“He was talking about writing his memoirs a few months ago,” said Paul, “but he must see that this isn’t a priority.” He looked genuinely distressed and Daryl scoffed.

“Guy’s a self-absorbed prick, but he’d be stupid to put his own ego over Hilltop’s wellbeing. There’s only so far people are willing to go. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Okay,” smiled Paul.

* * *

They were greeted at the gates of Alexandria by a very welcome sight.

“Welcome back,” said Rick, smiling at Aaron and Eric, but his real focus was on Daryl. He whistled ( _“All okay?”_ ) and Daryl responded ( _“All good. All safe”_ ). He hugged his brother tightly before moving over to Carl, patting his shoulder and then standing in front of Michonne who happily handed him Judith before hugging him.

“Hey, there, Little Asskicker,” smiled Daryl, hugging the girl as tightly as he could without hurting her. “My, girl, you’ve grown!”

She just giggled, “Darrie! Darrie!” He hugged her again. God, he had missed them. The whole family was there to greet him, all hugging or touching him in some way with the exception of Eugene who nodded and welcomed him awkwardly (which was fine for hime). The only person missing was…

“No news from Carol?”

“No.”

Daryl sighed, “Alright, we’re goin’ on a run. Will be back tonight. Anythin’ you need?”

“Grab what you need for Hilltop,” said Rick. “We’ll take whatever’s left.”

“Nah, man, we agreed on scavenging near Alexandria,” said Daryl. “You’ll get more than the scraps.”

“Okay,” smiled Rick and hugged him again. “Take care.”

“See you soon.”

Very reluctantly, he handed over the girl to Michonne, and did not feel better when they left with Judith’ cries for “Darrie!”.

Paul smiled at him, “Darrie’s her favorite uncle, I think.”

Daryl chuckled lowly, “She’s the best baby girl in the world.”

He felt Paul’s eyes on him.

Feeling very much as if put under a microscope he glanced over to the younger man and his pale eyes gleamed in a way that did all sorts of weird things to Daryl’s insides. Swallowing dryly, he pushed the car to go a little faster.

* * *

Their run went off without a hitch, and for the first time, Daryl believed his brother’s law of fucking averages. They cleaned out a place big enough for both communities and, while Paul drove back with the car filled to the brim with all kinds of bathroom utensils, a full first aid kit, some pain meds they had found hidden in a house, and some expired antibiotics, antiseptics and a sewing kit, as well as abundant bandages, Daryl was driving a truck very similar to what they had lost on the day they met Paul. Considering everything that had happened to them out there, it was not surprising that Daryl could only breathe freely once they arrived in Alexandria.

Paul could not stop smiling and Daryl too was in high spirits. The entire population of Alexandria had come out to see the bounty and while they would take the truck to Hilltop, they could spare enough for Alexandria that people flocked around Paul as he stood on the back of the truck handing out goods like the veritable Jesus handing out fish.

The sun was low and illuminated the scout’s smiling face, and Daryl was struck by the sheer beauty of the man. He had never really thought about people in terms of beauty. He recognized when someone was conventionally attractive, but his thoughts never lingered on that, finding their behavior and personal interaction with him more important. However, here, seeing Paul smilingly nodding at something Tobin said, sitting on the back of the truck dangling his feet only to somehow move from that innocent position to pushing himself in one smooth and almost predatory motion to get Tobin something from the truck, it really struck Daryl with the intensity of a sledgehammer that Paul Rovia was beautiful.

As if noticing that he was being observed, Paul looked over at him and gave him a wave with a smile on his lips. Instinctively, Daryl lifted his hand in response. This would go away, Daryl knew. This weird, uncomfortable feeling. He had felt that way when Rick started asking for his advice; he had felt that way around Beth after grieving together over the loss of their family; hell, he remembered feeling that way for Carol when she had looked to him after the farm fell.

With Beth, these feelings had been brief yet intense and Daryl was still not sure what he had felt about her. He had cared for her, but he would never have called her _attractive_. Just thinking about her that way made him feel uncomfortable, but he had cared for her differently than what he still felt for Maggie.

With Rick, it had been more complicated. After Dale’s death, Rick had started talking to him, started looking at him with his steel-blue eyes as if the uneducated redneck in front of him knew what to do, as if Daryl _mattered_ and Daryl had repaid that consideration with unwavering loyalty. He would have done anything Rick wanted him to do.

He still would, but back in the beginning, Daryl would not have objected to whatever Rick asked. He would have… It was wrong, thinking this way about your brother, Daryl knew, but back then, Rick had not been his brother yet, and Daryl got confused, and he used to have dreams sometimes about Rick; dreams which today, he would never admit to under threat of torture. It filled him with shame, remembering his muddled emotions at the time, and he was glad with how things turned out. It was _right_.

He should probably expect a similar transition with Paul since what he felt now very much reminded him of how he had felt for Rick back then, but it also reminded him of Beth, and something else entirely. It coiled deep in his gut and somehow, Daryl could not imagine that he could ever look at Paul and see another brother.

When Paul jumped from the back of the truck and made his way over to him, smiling broadly, he found that some people were like magnets, like Rick or Maggie or even Deanna to a lesser degree. They were the people you instinctively trusted to know what they were doing. Leaders. Paul had that magnetisms in spades and Daryl definitely responding to that.

“This was good day. It was a pleasure going on a run with you,” smiled Paul, his eyes on Daryl’s and the hunter could not speak, his gut churning in a weirdly warm manner.

“Anytime,” said Daryl roughly, and he meant it.

Anytime.

Daryl had always been drawn to those who naturally led others and he knew Paul was one of the good ones.

Perhaps, Aaron was right. Maybe, he _could_ tell the difference between a good and a bad person. Daryl knew he would happily stand by Paul whenever he needed it, just like he had stood by Rick whose judgment he trusted whole-heartedly. But while Rick had the kind of following he deserved, a whole group of people willing to die for him and while Maggie had Glenn and people from both Hilltop and Alexandria seeing that same light in her that also existed in Rick, Paul only had Hilltop’s gratitude, but not its unconditional trust and faith. He deserved that and Daryl would make sure he got it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon: Daryl is either Ace or demisexual. 
> 
> In this story, he is demisexual with a clear preference for men. He was sexually and romantically attracted to Rick after Rick started going to Daryl for advice, which then shifted to brotherly affection. He had romantic feelings for Beth, but was not sexually attracted to her. Carol and Daryl always had a sibling relationship, but Daryl may have seen in her briefly as both a potential sister or a romantic but not a sexual partner before their dynamics were settled.


	8. Caught In the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is Paul's turn to think about everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to LottaCharlene for wonderful discussions behind the scenes and to hudsonbird for her beautiful comments.

He was in so much trouble.

Paul had been perfectly fine with Daryl Dixon when he was surly and kind of grumpy in a capable sort of way, but seeing the man loosen up was like watching a leopard unfold from deep slumber.

That smile on the older man’s face when they inspected their bounty – broad, happy and uninhibited – burned in Paul’s memory.

 _“Now, let’s hope we ain’t gonna meet a hippie prick who’ll try to steal it from us_ ,” he had laughed, playfully shoving Paul with just enough force that he had to balance it out.

 _“Oh, but the keys were so easily swiped,”_ Paul had laughed in return. _“For a former sheriff, Rick doesn’t notice much when being pickpocketed.”_

 _“Sheriff’s deputy,”_ Daryl had corrected, still grinning. _“And he’s very observant as long as it doesn’t concern him. He’s a blind idiot when it comes to that.”_

Paul did not say that it ran in the family, but he very nearly let it slip. Daryl Dixon was terrifyingly unaware of himself. Oh, he was hyperaware of anything that could be vaguely viewed as criticism or above-average attention of people he did not know (like Hilltop’s residents responding to his help with genuine and vocal gratitude), but he had no clue about the positive effect he had on people.

He did not realize how Earl gently interrogated him about manufacturing arrows, so that the blacksmith could make some just for Daryl, only to look dumbstruck when the older men presented a dozen of them with a bright smile. He was completely unaware that his four trainees worshipped the ground he walked on (if they could find the trail) and that they were called “Daryl’s pups” by Hilltop’s residents whenever he was out of earshot.

He also had no idea how much he could lift Paul’s spirits just by smiling at and laughing with him. Paul was fully aware how much Hilltop’s morale was dependent on Paul’s positive attitude when it came to the future, but he had been ignorant of the fact that, apparently, he needed the smile of a grumpy hunter to boost his own outlook on life.

It terrified him a bit. Anyone’s life expectancy was precarious at best and practically zero at worst, which was why the only place where people should look to in order to be positive, was within your own self. Paul having an easier time finding his inner peace when the older man was near as opposed to when he was alone… This was not good. Yet, like an addict, he wanted to make the man smile again.

“I haven’t seen this much food in one place since we did that food drive back at the group home,” Paul said cheerfully and instantly wondered whether he had temporarily lost his mind.

“Group home?” repeated Daryl, frowning.

_‘Great, Rovia. That’ll make him smile!’_

“Oh, I lived in a group home, age 12 to 18,” said Paul nonchalantly. “My parents died in a car accident and I had nowhere else to go.” Neither of his parents had siblings and the only remaining grandparent had been his father’s father who had been unable to take in a young teen.

“’m sorry. Lost my mom when I was eight. ‘S tough.”

Paul felt his heart melt. He saw no pity, just sympathy in these blue eyes that were hidden behind strands of hair, and for just one moment, Paul had the insane wish to gently remove these strands from Daryl’s field of vision.

“Others were so much worse off,” said Paul, thinking about some of the stories he had heard from his foster siblings. “Not to say it was fun, but, well…”

He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how to continue.

Daryl’s eyes were on him and Paul smiled because that was all he could think of doing, “Thought you were one of ‘em hippies or college hipsters or whatever,” muttered the man.

Paul laughed out loud at that, “Oh, I was definitely that, too.”

“Nah,” contradicted Daryl. “I thought you were some spoiled rich kid who just stepped up after the world ended. Didn’t think you knew hardship before all this,” said Daryl quietly and Paul had figured as much, so he was not offended.

“Sorry to disappoint,” said he with a small smile.

“You don’t get it,” said Daryl, now very serious, biting his bottom lip in what Paul had learned was a sign of Daryl feeling uncomfortable but at the same time thinking about ways to change the mood. “You know so fucking much, like a walking and talking library. You helped people even before all this, help ‘em African kids, doin’ blood drives, and teachin’ others how to defend themselves. Thought you never had to worry about anythin’ concerning you, so you put all that energy into helpin’ others.”

Paul was honestly a bit confused. What was Daryl trying to say?

“Shame on me?” It was a question more than a witty retort.

“Nah, hell, man,” Daryl shook his head vigorously, clearly frustrated with himself. “’S like with Glenn. You know he had this amazin’ strategic head when I met him, thought he was military or a cop or some math genius or somethin’, but he delivered pizzas before all this. Made me think higher of him… realizing he didn’t have the training to back up that mind of his. You doin’ all that shit to help others when you had no resources to help yourself? Damn impressive.” He looked at Paul intently as if willing him to understand that in Daryl Dixon’s book, he had just exceeded high expectations, and that made Paul smile.

“I had funds. My parents were well off, but they were gone, and to protect the children’s assets, you don’t have access to these finances until after you are of age, and potential foster parents know nothing about any of that. It’s to protect the kids from exploitation,” which happened enough times as it was. “So, after turning eighteen, I had the money to go to college and do all these things you heard me talk about. I did martial arts throughout my childhood and when I lived in the group home, added parkour when I was a young teen and was able to take lessons for free. Because I was good, I was even able to compete throughout my childhood.”

“You were never adopted?” asked Daryl instead, biting the skin around his thumb in a gesture Paul had come to learn was a mix of shame and nervousness; a sign of pure discomfort.

“No, I stayed with foster parents temporarily to ease my transition into the system,” he could not help his bitter smile just then, “but nobody was interested in adopting a grieving and thus very angry twelve-year-old. I also quickly gained the reputation of getting into fights, and coming out to potential adoptive parents wasn’t exactly my idea of fun.” Daryl frowned, clearly not understanding what he was saying. “I was the only gay kid in my group home and some older kids were dicks about it, but it is what it is. Some people are just ignorant.”

“Coward’s what they are,” fumed Daryl, outraged at the implication. “Attacking you, punishing you, just because you were different. ‘S wrong.”

“True enough,” smiled Paul.

“’S ironic, you know,” continued Daryl quietly. “Always thought my dad’s a coward, and my brother’s the brave one, but they both were cowards when it came to this. Dad just went about it differently. Merle freaked out and threw women at me. Dad beat the crap outta me.” Daryl continued biting his thumb and Paul wanted to physically restrain him from doing it, because the older man looked so miserable. “Dad would’a preferred me dead over bein’a…yeah,” he scoffed, “Merle would’a freaked, but he wouldn’t have killed me.”

“What are you saying, Daryl?” asked Paul softly.

“Dunno ‘bout bein’, yeh know, like you ‘n Aaron ‘n Eric,” whispered Daryl, his face now completely covered by his hair. “Think ‘m just defective. Y’all just love people, Aaron and Eric are like Michonne ‘n Rick, or Maggie ‘n Glenn. That ain’t wrong. I’m defective. Don’t feel nothin’ for anyone beyond, you know,” the skin around his thumbnail was a deep red as he mumbled, “family and friends. Ain’t never wanted that kinda love, I think. Don’t think I can. Ain’t gay, but I ain’t normal. What’s what Denise said the other day? LG-whatever. I ain’t no Dorothy, man, but sure else hell wouldn’t mind bein’ her friend.”

So. Much. Trouble.

Ignoring his own heart, which decided to perform a tap-dance in his chest, Paul’s voice trembled slightly when he said, “Dorothy likes her queer friends, Daryl.”

“Ain’t many people who like me,” was his morose answer.

“I sure as hell do, and so do many people, both at Hilltop and Alexandria.” He let that sink in before continuing, “But when it gets too much, know that I’ll always go out with you.”

Wrong turn of phrase.

“I mean, go out scavenging. The two of us.” ‘ _Rovia, shut up,’_ he thought desperately, but his mouth would not obey, “You know, us go looking for stuff, looking for people, keeping the communities safe.”

He could not stop babbling and wanted to die when Daryl stared at him, utterly confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hihihi, I'm so cruel to Paul.


	9. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl realises something else and it does not make him feel better.

What was the little ninja’s problem? Daryl had no idea why he was suddenly so nervous.

“We’re good together, ‘s true,” Daryl nodded and could swear he heard some sound from Paul’s lips that sounded like confirmation, but it was not exactly a ‘hum’ and rather resembled a squeak. Who was he to judge, though? He was the last person to criticize someone when the right words refused to come.

He saw Rick, holding Judith in his arms, waving him over, while some more people from Alexandria were hopefully staring at the truck. With a quick glance at Paul, they parted ways, Rick meeting his brother, Paul talking to the people.

“You two need to go out more often,” said Rick with a broad smile. Daryl had missed this side of his brother so much. “You’re good together.”

“Yeah,” said Daryl. “So what?”

“Nothing. Just sayin’. No longer chasin’ him across a field, I see.”

Rick’s smile was amused, while Judith just happily babbled at Daryl, holding out her arms.

“Stop.”

“I mean, it would have been humorous to watch if it didn’t mean the loss of the truck, but that debt’s been repaid today, so I can laugh about it. You chasin’ him was hilarious.”

“Rick.”

“You know I don’t care, right?” He wore this ‘I’m-Rick-Grimes-and-I-am-here-to-support-you’ look and Daryl wanted for the Earth to swallow him whole, but given the world’s luck at the moment, there was actually a fair chance this could happen. He would still rather face a herd of walkers than continue this conversation.

“Ain’t nothin’ man. If nothing else, that showed him everything he needed to know about me.”

“I don’t understand,” frowned Rick.

“Slow, stupid, easily outwitted, just some redneck trash from the gutter,” scoffed Daryl. “Ain’t nobody in their right mind gonna look at me twice. ‘S fine. I ain’t-I ain’t like that anyway.”

Friend of Dorothy, huh? He could do that. He had come to accept that he was a good friend. That was enough. Rick shook his head and handed him Judith who had been making a valiant effort of switching her personal carrier.

“I beg to differ and I dare you insult my daughter’s tastes,” he answered.

Daryl’s lips twitched and he wrapped his arms around the girl, cooing at her, which made her giggle. Judith was different, though. He could do family, too.

“Do you want it to be?” the former sheriff deputy prodded.

“Nah. I’m good,” said Daryl. “But y’ain’t wrong.”

“’Bout what?”

“I ain’t...”

“I know,” smiled Rick softly. “You’re my brother, Daryl. ‘Course I know. ‘S fine.”

Daryl nodded, unable to look at Rick and holding Judith just a little bit closer, as if the other man could take her from him any minute now that he confessed. He knew it was irrational; Rick had seen him do much worse ( _the Claimers. Joining the fucking Claimers_.) and had not revoked an invitation to his family.

“Daryl!” Aaron exclaimed, jogging over with Eric waiting a few yards back. “Still up for dinner?”

“Sure, why not?” said Daryl. He liked pasta.

He looked over to Paul who was talking to an Alexandrian woman Daryl thought was called Stephanie, clearly flirting with him. It amused Daryl. Boy, was that lady barking up the wrong tree. Paul noticed his gaze and waved enthusiastically. It made Daryl shake his head at the idiot, while being unable to suppress his own smile.

“Rick,” said Aaron, bringing him back to the conversation. “You’re in as well?”

“Sure, I appreciate it. Neither of us are good cooks.”

Daryl scoffed. That was an understatement. Rick was capable of burning water and Michonne was not that much better.

“Do I hear food?”

Daryl jumped. How on Earth had that little ninja made his way over to them so fast without Daryl noticing? Paul was smiling and Daryl was unable to look away.

What the fuck was wrong with him? Not ten minutes ago, he had told Rovia that he was not… that. That he was defective (which apparently, was fine, and made him a friend of Dorothy, too). Now that the words were out and Paul had just accepted them, like they counted, like it was fine, he suddenly felt like he had lied to Paul.

“Spaghetti,” said Aaron, beaming, looking from Paul to Daryl with an expression that caused Daryl to look down; it felt like Aaron had just seen it. Like he _knew_ what Daryl was feeling in this moment. Like Rick had known ( _‘Of course, I know.’_ ) before Daryl realized.

“Perfect,” grinned Paul.

“The sauce is Italian,” said Aaron. “I mean, not really, but Eric managed to make the tomato sauce almost authentic _Napoletana_ style.” Daryl had no idea what that meant. “My personal favorite is _Spaghetti carbonara_ , but without eggs and bacon, that’s a pipedream.”

Daryl made a mental note of that. He knew how to make bacon from venison, and they had chickens back at Hilltop. Next time he came here, he would bring them some. Perhaps on his way to another run with Paul. He wondered what that carbon spaghetti tasted like; if he brought the ingredients, Aaron most certainly would invite them. He always invited Daryl, and now he was inviting Paul and Rick, too.

Rick bid his goodbyes to get ready with the rest of the family after Aaron told them when dinner would be ready. Paul and Daryl too would soon go to Rick’s house to ‘wash up a bit’ (Rick’s words, not his; highly appreciated by Paul, not him), but they still had to close up the truck and load a few things (mostly tools, weapons, ammo and metal) from Alexandria for Hilltop, so they excused themselves from Aaron.

“So, I got the eggs covered, but we don’t have any bacon, though there must be some pigs out there waiting to be domesticated,” said Paul thoughtfully. “Any ideas?”

_Fuck, he is beautiful._

Paul barely knew Aaron, but it was clear he was already willing to go way out of his way to make his day and to help him along on that pipedream. Not only that, he just assumed that Daryl was thinking along the same lines and was in on that plan.

“I can do bacon. It’s from venison, but tastes good enough.”

“Perfect,” smiled Paul and Daryl shifted a bit, trying to ignore the way his insides coiled at the man’s positivity. Despite the world ending all around them, he was so _good._

Worse even, from what he had told him, Paul had a worse start into life than Daryl had. At least, he had Merle (whenever he was around, at least). Paul had lost what sounded like good parents – Daryl hoped to God they were. He hoped neither had been like Will Dixon. Daryl desperately wished for Paul to have accumulated many good childhood memories up until he lost them – and was cast into the system. The only thing that had scared a young Daryl more than his own father, was to be taken away from him. To know it happened to Paul was charring and yet, the man had turned out so selfless and eager to help others. It made Daryl feel like a bitter old fool; like his own father.

He had no business making moon-eyes at the man. Paul deserved someone like Alex or another Aaron or Eric; an altruistic, beautiful, well-groomed, well-spoken, well-educated, good man, not some backwoods redneck who clammed up at the very notion of talking beyond sheer survival. He thought they could be friends, though. It had worked with Rick who was ten times the man Daryl could ever be ( _‘You’re every bit as good as them. Every bit.’ – ‘That why you left, woman?’_ ) but who never made him feel that way. When Paul patted his shoulder as they deposited the Alexandria goods in the truck, he had the distinct impression that this would be harder. Rick had always had someone to put a claim on him, first Lori, then Michonne and he had been in no condition in between.

Paul was free, available and interested in men. Daryl found that this was almost worse, because with Rick, at least he had not stood a chance because the man was simply not interested. With Paul, he was without a chance because he was _Paul fucking Rovia_ and Daryl was just a Dixon. He had never felt more like a useless piece of shit than in the very moment he had to acknowledge that he apparently was not defective.

Just picky.

_Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I'm mean to Daryl, too.


	10. Dinner For Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul at dinner with Rick, Michonne, Aaron, Eric. And Daryl, of course. He could never forget Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there, sorry for the delay

It should be strange, sitting with two well-established couples, a teenage boy and Daryl at the same dinner table. It was not weird at all, though. Quite the contrary, actually. Everyone was having a good time and conversation flowed naturally. He had had dinner with friends before, even awkward double-dates, but apart from the occasional boyfriend inviting him to some family dinner on a holiday, he could not even remember ever having enjoyed something like this.

Little Judith was sleeping on the couch and it was already clear they would stay the night because Rick could not sleep without her nearby. Paul, in turn, was invited to the Grimes house, where Daryl lived anyway when he was not visiting Hilltop. Daryl was quiet throughout the majority of the evening, but Paul knew him well enough by now to see just how much he was enjoying the company.

Tired from a strenuous day for a teen, Carl had nodded off a few times, so they sent him off to one of the bedrooms, and that was when conversation shifted just a bit.

Eric had the idea to play a game called “Stuff I learned after the world ended” and he immediately led with, “Feminine hygiene products.”

The whole table erupted into laughter with the exception of Michonne who just shook her head, “Men. Well, I learned how to change a tire and to hotwire a car.”

“You hardly ever drive,” frowned Rick.

“Well, no, I prefer having a personal driver,” she smiled.

“Should teach this one how to drive,” said Daryl gesturing at Paul who grinned.

“Me?”

“How _did_ you have a flat tire? You were far ahead of us,” said Rick.

“I-okay, first, _somebody_ ,” he glanced at Daryl, “tied a big-ass vending machine to the truck, leaving huge tracks.”

“Well, we planned on loosening the chain first before driving off,” laughed Rick gently.

“You’d have just shot me if I had waited this long.”

Daryl nodded and Rick shook his head, “No, we wouldn’t have.”

“Sure, we woulda,” contradicted Daryl sharply.

“Just like you would’ve left him up a tree?” laughed Rick.

“Wanted to,” grumbled Daryl. “You talked me out of it.”

“You wouldn’t have. He saved your life,” said Rick.

“One walker. ‘Was just one walker that I would have noticed if this ass hadn’t tried to steal our truck!” said Daryl.

Something about his expression told Paul that he was not being serious, so Paul was quite comfortable grinning, “Awww, you like me, Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl’s face snapped up, startled, but he did not contradict.

“Why didn’t you?” asked Aaron, interested in the answer. “I know you two. Not that you aren’t-you don’t exactly shoot first and ask questions later, but I’ve seen you. Jesus stole your truck. Hell, Rick told me you two were playing cat-and-mouse in a field. You could have shot him in the leg. I know your aim, Daryl, that would have been easy-“

“Oh, do give him ideas, will you?” giggled Paul playfully.

“Nah,” said Daryl, looking down.

Now, Paul was genuinely curious. He had met these two. They were _not_ the diplomats of their family.

“You seemed dangerous, but not like a threat,” said Rick, honest and straightforward. “There was intelligence in your eyes. Warm if mischievous humor in your manners. It wouldn’t have felt right, shooting you.”

“What about you, Daryl? Rick was not half as pissed at me as you were. Why not tying me up a tree?”

“I woulda, just told you that.” Everyone looked at the hunter, clearly not buying it. Michonne smiled, Rick’s eyes were all soft, Eric was grinning and Aaron looked understanding. Paul was mainly just curious.

“I’d really like to know,” said Paul softly. Making a joke seemed wrong in this setting. “You said I couldn’t join the group because I called myself Jesus, you shook that soda before you threw it at me. You clearly didn’t like me. So why?”

Daryl looked away, but everyone seemed to wish to know the answer.

“Like Rick said.”

“What?”

“Your eyes, you… reminded me of Aaron a bit, actually. Kind, _nice_ ,” he hissed the second word, “I didn’t trust you to be genuine, but woulda felt wrong shooting you over it. Turned out, like with Aaron, you really were as you seemed.” He looked at Eric and shook his head. “I see a common trait.”

“And that,” said Eric jovially, “is called gaydar, my friend.”

“Nah,” said Daryl, “nothing to do with that. Rick’s got it, too. Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Carol… around the family at least. Fucking goody-two-shows, the lot a’you. What did I do to deserve that?”

It sounded sarcastic, but Aaron decided to say what was on Paul’s mind, “By being not one bit better than us.”

Daryl snorted, “Carol said that, too once… or the opposite, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“Said I’m every bit as good as Rick,” said Daryl, his lips forming the ghost of smile, and Paul wondered whether Daryl, despite his confession about being queer – being aro/ace, to be precise – might have had feelings for Carol. He certainly seemed to miss her.

“Wise woman,” said Rick, smiling, “but she’s wrong wrong. You’re better than I am.”

Daryl scoffed, clearly not believing him and Rick did not try to dissuade him.

“You haven’t told us yet what you learned, Daryl,” said Michonne, “after the world, as we knew it, ended.”

Daryl shrugged his shoulders, “I dunno. Nothin’. Knew how to survive before. Got better at it, I think.”

“I’d say,” said Rick. “Saving the whole group from starvation is what you did.”

“You learned to distinguish a walker from a human by sound,” Aaron interjected, “you didn’t know that before.”

“That’s easy,” said Daryl. “Right?” He looked at Paul, expecting him to agree, and Paul had to nod.

“They drag their feet. Harder to distinguish them from drunk people, though,” said Paul, “but you don’t exactly find these outside of walls.”

“Breathing’s different,” said Daryl. “There’s a weird rattle to their breaths, like they try to breathe, but can’t because their lungs are gone.”

“Okay, so a drunk person with pneumonia could be mistaken for one of the dead,” said Paul, “definitely not going to find those in abundance outside the walls.”

Daryl seemed satisfied with that assessment and relaxed into his chair. The conversation soon shifted to quite gruesome if undeniably hilarious things happening to them since it all began. Rick was just explaining some story about Daryl and him gutting a roamer who might have eaten one of their team members when Eric said playfully, “I think we invited barbarians into our house, Aaron.”

The change in Daryl’s face was instantaneous and quite heartbreaking. It looked like he genuinely too it to heart. Thankfully, Eric noted and he smoothly added, “But then, I like barbarians.” He looked Daryl, “Especially if they’re handsome even though they’re trying to hide it behind strands of far too long hair.”

Daryl chuckled lowly at the jibe.

“You know,” continued Eric, “I know it’s a terrible cliché, but I actually worked as a hairdresser for a while because I liked it, and it allowed me to make some money. I could take care of these bangs of yours.”

Daryl nodded, “Sure, thanks.”

Silence followed Daryl’s immediate response and the man scoffed, “Too much of a hassle when the world ends, and nobody cares about looks when you’re running for your life, but given the choice, I prefer it shorter than this. Just… I don’t like people touching me, is all.”

“I’ll be gentle,” smiled Eric, and Paul could see his mirth mixed with genuine affection for his friend.

“I know,” said Daryl. “I trust you. ‘S fine.”

The man was certainly blunt when it came to how he felt about you, and Paul appreciated it.

A lot.

Too much.

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you’re surrounded by death, you get a weird sense of humor. Don’t believe me, talk to pathologists. I guarantee you that humor will still be a thing for these people, but that humor’s quite… unique.


	11. A Haircut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl gets a haircut.

Eric kept his promise.

He _was_ very gentle. Daryl still did not enjoy people touching him, but Eric kept the touches to an absolute minimum. He also never stopped talking and it kind of lulled Daryl in, causing him to relax bit by bit, reminding him of Carol’s featherlight touches.

This was Eric.

He could not hurt a fly. Hell, he had managed to have a tire roll over his foot because he had heedlessly walked onto the streets to signal Aaron (Daryl still shuddered what would have happened if he and Maggie had not arrived on time).

“Told you there’s a gorgeous guy hiding beneath it all,” grinned Eric when he used a mirror to show Daryl’s new haircut. It was not quite as short as he used to wear before the turn, but definitely shorter than what he had come accustomed to in recent months.

It felt right. Eric really had a gift there.

Low whistling had them both turn around.

Aaron grinned at him, “Wow. You clean up nicely.”

Daryl scoffed, “’S just hair, man.”

“And a suit is just clothing, still looks better than a T-shirt,” countered Aaron with a grin. Then his expression sobered, and the hunter instinctively tensed. “Daryl, don’t take this the wrong way and tell me if I’m way off base, but I feel like you might want to talk.” He did that wordless communication thing with Eric that Michonne and Rick had with each other, too. The two men had talked about this before.

They knew or suspected something, perhaps everything, and Daryl trusted them, so… Aaron had told him how they still felt like outsiders. They would understand; or at least, they wouldn’t judge him.

“I-think I lied to Paul,” said Daryl quietly.

“Paul?” repeated Aaron softly and surprised. Daryl was startled to realize the switch his brain had decided to make practically overnight. Paul Rovia was not a Jesus. He would never call him Jesus, but Rovia seemed cold, distant, and he did not want that. “What did you lie to him about?”

“Told him I wasn’t interested.”

A sound escaped Eric that resembled a squeak and Daryl fully realized what he had just said, “Told him I ain’t ever interested. Have never been. He said ‘t was fine, that I was one of ‘em…you LGB-etc. folks,” he clarified. “But I lied to him. I’ve-perhaps-I think I was, but there were just a few people I liked and they were all taken, so I wasn’t into that. But Paul’s… Can’t really go back on my word now. ‘d be creepy.”

Aaron stared at him, his facial expression slack, then he said very softly, “You didn’t lie to him, Daryl. You thought you were ace, but it sounds to me like you’re demi.”

For a brief moment, Daryl wondered whether he had a stroke and forgot to understand what words meant because it sounded to him like Aaron was talking in a foreign language, “What?”

“Asexuality means that you feel little to no sexual attraction. Demisexuality means you only feel attracted to people you feel a strong emotional bond with. Not every person you have an emotional bond with, but, yeah. What you told Paul was correct, probably even while you explained yourself to him.”

“So, I’m just picky?” said Daryl, which confirmed his earlier thoughts.

Aaron grinned and Eric giggled, “Good taste, too, if I may say so.”

Daryl ducked his head, but could not avoid the grin that stole on his lips. Paul certainly _was_ beautiful.

“Then let’s hope to God he doesn’t,” scoffed Daryl.

Both men looked at him.

“What?”

“Right,” scoffed Eric, his voice flat and clearly sarcastic. “What could he possibly see in you: apart from you being a good friend and brother, great uncle, loved by your entire family, you being as much of a badass as he is and just as goddamn selfless, which just might be a dream combination because some of that recklessness has to fade in the face of being with someone just as bad,” Eric started listing down and Daryl felt himself panic at the mere notion.

“I didn’t say nothing about being with the guy,” said Daryl defensively. “He ain’t-. He’s got Alex.”

“No,” said Eric, his voice certain and almost steely. “That’s over. On Jesus’ part at least.”

“You got a problem with Alex?” asked Daryl, confused.

“No,” said Eric, far too quickly. “I’m sure he’s a sweet guy, but he’d make Jesus miserable. They don’t fit.”

Daryl scoffed, “They absolutely do. Didn’t you hear them talkin’ about all the stuff they did for charity?” The only thing _Daryl_ had in common with Paul was shared misery of losing loved ones and having a less than ideal childhood. Not the kind of thing romance was built on.

What he thought had to be visible on his face because both looked at him with twin expressions of what was far too reminiscent of pity. Frustrated, he got up and was about to walk away when Eric’s voice held him back, “This isn’t Before, Daryl. You probably wouldn’t have met at all, that’s true, but you are both here now and you are not the same people you were before the lives as we knew them ended. Don’t give Jesus the disservice of assuming he still thinks and acts the same way he did Before. Or that his standards remained unchanged. Talk to him.”

Eric made it sound easy. But then he could spend the end of the world with the love of his life. To him, it was probably easy. Daryl shuddered to think that death could either one of them away and he vowed to protect these two men with his own life, so that neither had to go through the pain of losing _their_ loved one.

Aaron smiled at his partner like he hung the moon before he looked at Daryl, “You really should.”

* * *

There was no way to talk, though. They drove back in different vehicles and Paul was called to the prick’s office the second they went through the gates. It made Daryl ache with sympathy; here he was, a temporary visitor at Hilltop instantly welcomed by Denise, Tara, Maggie and Glenn - even Earl nodded his head – and Hilltop’s most important scout was barely acknowledged before he was whisked away immediately.

“Earth to Daryl?” said Tara. “You okay?”

“Hm? Yeah,” said he quickly. “Got something for you two.” It was not ‘pop’, but he could grab some chocolate that might not even be stale yet.

“Are you trying to fatten me up, Mr. Dixon?” grinned Denise happily. “I think there’s enough of that already.”

“Who said that?” growled Daryl, instantly in protection mode. “I’ll –“

“Nobody, but thanks,” she smiled at him.

“How’s training going?”

She told him how training was difficult, but that there had not been any life-threatening cases and she hoped it would stay that way. While listening to her with interest, he helped Hilltop unload the truck he had insisted on driving (“Last time you drove a truck, it first had a flat-tire. Then you let it drown.” – “I’d like to remind you that you helped with the drowning part.”). He wondered how long Paul would be off with Gregory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny interlude and don’t be disappointed that you don’t see Paul react to Daryl’s haircut. This is Daryl’s POV and he’s utterly oblivious. Next chapter will be Paul's POV.


	12. Another Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gregory asks Paul to go to another run, a run for Hilltop, from Hilltop. It's bound to be a disaster

Paul would call himself a very patient soul, but Gregory was certainly testing his resolve. He had looked forward to returning to Hilltop. As welcome as he was in Alexandria and had come to truly love the family around the Grimes family, he always worried when he felt himself relaxing in places that were not Hilltop because he could never quite stop worrying about what might happen to it in his absence.

This time was particularly bad because staying in Alexandra with the Grimes family, Aaron, Eric and Daryl had nearly made him forget about his duties. When he remembered, he had basically stepped into the truck and drove off, knowing Daryl would not be too far behind. He felt awful about it, though, as if he was leaving Daryl behind, but by not leaving, he would have abandoned Hilltop, and that was not acceptable.

He was so tired.

“The Alexandrians haven’t given enough for our services,” said Gregory. “You should have given them less supplies. We needed that truck. The whole truck.”

Said the man who had not even known what was in the truck in the first place.

“And the Alexandrians wish to take over Hilltop,” Gregory continued, visibly agitated. “I feel it. Ken and Lily, they move about the community like they own the place.”

“Glenn and Maggie have agreed to teaching our people how to fight,” said Paul soothingly, but he was tired of calming the man’s giant ego.

There was a sharp knock on the door and the door opened before any of them could grant the person entry.

It was Daryl.

For a moment, it felt like Paul’s heart skipped a beat while his brain decided to just shut down.

_Holy Shit._

What had Eric been thinking?

_‘That he’s got an utterly gorgeous friend who likes to hide behind his hair?”_

And he was.

Gorgeous.

Damn, those eyes were beautiful and his expression was sharp, serious and Paul wanted to touch that cheek, and…

_Shit._

Gregory was still talking, ignoring Daryl.

How could anyone see the guy and not stop in their tracks?

“I want you to go on a run. Take some people with you, but only Hilltop. This is a run from Hilltop for Hilltop.”

Paul stared at Gregory. Exhaustion running through every fiber of his body. He had barely slept last night, too worried about Hilltop and too excited to bring all that stuff back. He realized the stark contrast between Rick Grimes’ and Gregory’s leadership style. Rick had awaited them, greeted them, asked how they were and how everything had gone. Gregory had not even asked what he brought, but only about what he gave away and why he was still waiting for that typewriter.

Not wanting to cause a scene, he said, “I prefer going out by myself.”

“No, the more you are, the more you can bring back. Take some of the people who’ve practiced with George. They should be ready now, shouldn’t they?”

“Ain’t no need for a run,” Daryl decided to chime in sharply. “You fuckin’ idiot. He’s gotta be exhausted; hasn’t slept a wink last night. No need to go out; Let him rest for a week. I can go with him then.”

“No, because you are not part of this community,” said Gregory haughtily.

“Then you’re fuckin’ st-“

“Daryl,” Paul said gently.

Gregory sneered, “Mr. Davies, this is none of your business, and I would like you to stop being a brute.”

Daryl sneered, “Name’s Dixon, fuckhead. Y’ain’t no Cesar and I don’t owe you loyalty.”

It took all of Paul’s willpower not to laugh out loud when Gregory’s mouth opened in sheer astonishment.

Gregory was not deterred, though, “I want you out there on a run within the hour.”

All Paul could do was drag Daryl out before he physically hurt the leader of Hilltop.

* * *

Ultimately, he went out with Wes and two young men – Trevor and Chris – who had been training with Glenn recently and were the most advanced; he still would have preferred to either go alone or to go with one of the Alexandrians; Tara for example. The Alexandrians were clearly not happy with the decision. Wes being one of the most experienced guys to go out there, he was a bit insulted at the lack of faith Daryl and the rest had in him, but then, while he could handle himself better than most at Hilltop, Paul did not doubt that in comparison, he would lose against someone as young as Carl, who had yet to gain the muscle of the young man he would become.

“Take care,” said Daryl to him. “Daylight’s not on your side. Be careful.”

Paul took a moment to appreciate the man’s features. He wondered what Eric liked. He had to somehow repay the man for his services.

“Always am.”

Daryl scoffed, “Right, and ‘em pigs like to fly.”

“Perhaps they’d like to, but it’s not always possible.”

“Go” chuckled Daryl and nodded his goodbyes.

They were not even in the car yet when Wes asked, “So… What’s between you and Alexandrian’s sexiest redneck?”

Paul was not sure whether he was being sarcastic or not, and decided to answer with platitudes, evasion and a joke.

They came by a store, but Paul did not like the way it looked.

Too untouched. Too easy.

Things were always dangerous when they looked like they were easy-to-get. Unfortunately, he was overruled and the rest stepped out before he could tell them that it was not a good idea. Chris and Trevor were out with Wes following behind.

“Wait,” said Paul quietly. “Let me check for the dead first.”

“Jesus, come on. It’s just a small store. Nothing we can’t handle.”

It turned out that the store had a storm cellar.

A storm cellar full of the dead.

Definitely more than they could handle. By the skin their teeth, Paul managed to get them all outside of the store without bites, but the dead kept on coming and while normally, he would have been able to run and dispatch them as he went, he was too busy protecting the other men from certain death.

Still, they could make their way toward the car, slowly but surely and Paul – after snapping a biter’s neck with a sharp roundhouse kick – was suddenly hopeful. However, that was the moment Wes tripped and fell with the dead quickly catching up to them.

Paul was there in an instant, but he knew it meant little. There were too man and far too close to them all. Just when he mentally said goodbye to the world, the by now familiar ‘thwack’ of a crossbow killed one of the dead near him with an arrow through its head, allowing Paul to get rid of the rest while still protecting Chris and Trevor, who tried to help Wes get to his feet.

Disbelievingly, Paul turned to see Daryl, crossbow in hand, his adoring students behind him.

“A’right, kids,” drawled Daryl, his ‘teacher voice’ on full display. “First rule of hunting somethin’ dangerous. If it’s walkers, aim for the head,” said Daryl to his young hunter trainees, as he dispatched of a walker coming for him. “If it’s big game or a bear or anything that will charge you without hesitation.” He put away the crossbow and took the shotgun he had strapped to his back. “You-“ One shot to the right leg of another charging walker caused it to stumble, “break-“ This time, he hit the other leg, and the walker fell to the ground, “it-” He hit the right arm it used to crawl toward him, “Down.” This time, he shot twice, first the other arm and then a shot right in the head.

It was probably the hottest thing Paul had ever witnessed, and a part of him should probably be horrified that dispatching walkers could be considered hot, but damn, the man knew how to make an entry.

“Now,” Daryl’s voice quickly brought him back to the present and he focused back on the matter at hand. “Paul and I take the front, you the back. Tell me when something’s comin’ at you.”

Suddenly, it was easy. Paul no longer had to worry about protecting the person to his left, trusting absolutely that whatever came from there would be taken care of, and together they dispatched the walkers in record time.

“Thanks.”

“We were tracking deer,” said Daryl dismissively, as if he was giving a report to Gregory and Paul might just love him a little bit. “Saw you in trouble, came to help.” As if they had not tracked them down first to provide assistance. “Thought about that, by the way,” continued Daryl quietly. “Figured we should catch some live ones,” he mused. “They’re smaller than cattle and eat less. Quieter, too. Read they don’t damage the ground as much as cattle. Could repopulate the forests, enough meat for everyone, including Alexandria.”

Paul remembered that once – it seemed like a lifetime ago – he had thought that the man was dumb and this former thought now filled him with shame; he promised to himself never to judge a book by its cover ever again.

And to be honest, the cover in this case was absolutely beautiful, and he had no idea what to do about it. Of all the men that survives the apocalypse, why had he fallen for Daryl Dixon? The man had explicitly stated he was not interested, that he was probably aro/ace, and most definitely not compatible with Paul who had a very healthy sexual appetite.

Putting that thought firmly aside, he insisted on raiding the store with Daryl and soon after, they had to squeeze several people and some goods into two cars. They both squeezed together in the back of Wes’ car and having the man he was violently attracted pressed against his side, was probably not the best idea he ever had when he suggested car distribution with Wes and Carla in the front, Daryl and Paul and a considerable amount of hygiene products in the back, and Chris and Trevor taking back Simon, Johnny and Pedro in the other car.

Taking a shaky breath to steady himself, Paul forced himself to remember that Daryl was also a good friend. That was enough.

It was _fine._

The smell of musk, cigarettes and sweat should _not_ be sexy, but there was an underlying smell to it, like pine trees and the forest floor, that drew Paul to the man like a moth to the flame; speaking of, the man was a furnace as well, and Paul was feeling a bit cold because had lent his jacket to Simon who was shivering now that the sun had gone down and it had gotten much cooler. He leaned in. Just a bit.

Daryl did not seem to mind.

Back at Hilltop, Jesus went straight to Gregory’s office, told Maria that she would have to talk to Gregory tomorrow and that he was sorry, but he and Gregory would need to have a chat.

“What did you get?”

“I could ensure that everyone arrived safely,” snapped Paul, tired and out of patience. “From now on, runs that are not done solely by me will contain two or more trained fighters. No member of Hilltop currently qualifies, so whenever there is a run, Glenn, Maggie, Daryl or Tara will join. Since Maggie’s pregnant, it’ll be down to me, Glenn, Tara and Daryl. They’ll be risking their lives for us, and you’ll pay Alexandria accordingly, starting with goods from our increased agricultural production, thanks to Maggie’s input.”

Gregory was not deterred, “We wouldn’t need them if they would be training our people properly, but I’m not surprised,” Paul heard the door open, but did not bother to turn around, too furious with Gregory to look anywhere but at the source of his anger. “After all, while Denise is being trained by a true professional, all we received is a redneck, some young woman who grew up on a farm and a pizza delivery man from Atlanta.”

“That pizza delivery guy killed more walkers than you can count,” growled Daryl’s voice and that answered Paul’s musings regarding who had just entered the office, “and that young woman lost her entire family and two homes due to walkers and human cruelty. You think she won’t do absolutely everything to keep this place safe?” Daryl scoffed angrily. “Think again.” He turned and went for the door handle, obviously eager to leave, “Just came here to say Harlan asked for you.”

“You are not defending yourself?” asked Gregory, surprised.

“Hell nah. Am what you said I was,” Daryl hissed, his eyes on Gregory, carefully avoiding Paul who shook his head slowly. “I may be dumb, but I’m still smarter than you. Wanna know why? I wouldn’t risk my best fighter’s life ‘cause I wanted to prove a point. Rick sent me here to train your guys, not just caus’a trade, but because he wants backup for Glenn and Maggie. We want this place to succeed ‘cause we need you. Thing is,” continued Daryl. “You need us too. So, grow up, grow a pair and realize what Paul does for you, or I swear I’ll convince everyone here that we’re better off together, away from this house, back in Alexandria. Paul would be treated as the fuckin’ asset he is.”

He walked out without another word.

“What a rude-“

“Gregory,” said Paul tiredly, touched, and kind of giddy. “Let’s go to Harlan.”


	13. To A New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harlan and Denise have an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Desus centric and very short (I swear, even Daryl's musings are short and to the point...), but kind of looking to the future.
> 
> BTW, I am planning a season 1 AU where these two idiots meet earlier in the pandemic (Or: Atlanta Group Meets Jesus), which I will work on as soon as I have this wrapped up. Brainstorming is already in progress (shoutout to LottaCharlene for her crucial input)

Paul and the prick arrived not long after him.

“Yes, Dr. Carson, what can we do for you?” asked the prick.

“Denise was specializing in psychiatry before this all ended,” began Harlan, instantly getting to the point, sounding excited, “and she’s good, very good.” Even though he had nothing to do with that, Daryl felt proud on Denise’ behalf. She was a clever one, and it pleased him to hear it confirmed. Denise looked awkward but cautiously happy herself.

“We have a lot of traumatized people out there,” continued Harlan, sounding scarily excited for such a horrible topic. “I think with Denise training some laymen, we could build something, an actual place where people can recover. This could be the start of civilization. I was talking to Reg from Alexandria before he went back; he has some fantastic ideas. We can do this.”

Glenn and Maggie were in the room as well, looking excited. They all were excited and so hopeful it was hard to watch. Daryl took a peek at Paul, whose eyes were wide, round and filled with the same faith the others had and Daryl knew he would die to make sure they got their little piece of _civilization_.

Whatever that meant. His life had not been very civilized before the Turn.

“I don’t know, Harlan,” said Gregory carefully, with a false expression of compassion that made Daryl want to punch him in the face. “You’re reaching for the stars here.”

“They’ve never been brighter, have they?” smiled Paul, his eyes fixed on Daryl, possibly remembering their little story night the other day and Daryl swallowed dryly, looking away, his face reddening. “It’s a chance. We should take it. Denise, what do you need?”

Of course, Paul would already think practically.

“I can give you with a list of books to start with,” said she instantly. “God, I wish the internet was still around!” She exclaimed before exhaling, taking a deep breath and then continuing, calm and serious, “but I have a booklet with my old notes back in Alexandria. I didn’t take it with me because I came here to train as a real doctor, not a shrink,” said she self-depreciatively.

Daryl found he could not accept that lack of self-confidence, “Ye’re enough of a doctor that Harlan thinks you can heal people’s heads. Lotta heads not screwed on well these days.” He thought of Carol, Rick, Michonne, himself. They all had their breakdowns over the course of the years and they all needed something to help them deal, help them face their new reality as well as their own past. That reminded him of something, “I got… I got a book you might be able to use.”

“Really? What book?” she smiled at him, all excited and interested and he could not refuse to answer and thus possibly disappoint her.

“Book to help traumatized kids,” said he curtly and instantly felt Paul’s sympathetic eyes on him. Why someone with a worse childhood than his own even managed to feel this much was an absolute mystery to him, but it also comforted him and filled him with an admiration for Paul that was slowly starting to rival the respect he felt for Rick and the awe he had always felt for Merle. It was terrifying, frankly. He still barely knew the man. He kind of hoped these feelings were a passing thing, or he would never be able to talk to the man about how he felt.

Why had Aaron and Eric talked him into this again?

“Found it back in Atlanta,” said Daryl roughly.

“I think that’s where we have to go.”

“Atlanta?”

“Cities. I mean, maybe some smaller towns have psychiatric clinics with libraries, but the med schools? They’re usually in bigger cities.”

“Yeah, some veterinary schools might have some stuff as well,” said Daryl, remembering what Hershel had said a lifetime ago. He wished the old man was here; he would have been a fountain of knowledge for all the farmers here. Thankfully, he had trained his daughter well. If there was a heaven, Daryl was sure Hershel and Beth would be proud of Maggie’s strength and achievement. He wondered if he should say something like that, but instantly decided against it.

Not today.

Not for a while.

Perhaps, one day they could remember them without Daryl wanting to stab his own eyes out.

“On psychiatrics?” asked Denise in confusion and Daryl felt kind of dumb for opening his mouth on something he was utterly clueless about.

He squirmed, but Harlan whistled lowly, “Oh, good call. We should definitely scavenge veterinary clinics, not just for drugs but for books on animal health. If nothing else, we have livestock. We need to keep them healthy, and, as Clara, a veterinarian I went to high school with, always said ‘A cow’s not a horse and a cat’s not a small dog, and if you ever feed your cat aspirin because you think you know what its problem is, I will personally hunt you down and make you pay.’” He gave them that typical wistful smile that Daryl knew to be the ‘she’s probably dead now’ look that all of his family wore whenever they spoke of people from their past. Jesus, they all needed a damn shrink. Denise would have her hands full for the rest of her life.

Mulling the doctor’s words over in his head, Daryl thought of dying pigs and shuddered violently. He would hit the next veterinary clinic as soon as possible. He was sure Paul would accompany him; he looked up, only to see the shorter man already nod as if he had read his mind.

This was becoming a problem.

“This is an Alexandria matter too,” said Maggie firmly. “We should call in on Rick. Send a joint team from Hilltop and Alexandria. We do this right.”

The prick was thankfully smart enough not to complain.


	14. Chocolate Muffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul has a tense conversation with Alex and an important one with Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost done here, people :) Thanks for sticking around. The epilogue will be quite short.

Paul was gently brushing Holly who enjoyed the attention; he had trouble keeping his own excitement in check. He had not even thought of it, the importance of everyone’s mental wellbeing. It had not even occurred to him to bring it up. Harlan was right, this was an important step toward civilization.

Many people had suffered mentally since the Turn, whether they had witnessed gruesome scenes, lost loved ones, had to do horrible things to survive, having been hurt by other humans twisted by this world, or all of the above. If they could stop the vicious cycle, they might actually be able to change things.

Holly nibbled his pockets, looking for the treats he most certainly had not hidden (is what he would say if anyone asked).

“I’m really glad to have met Rick and Daryl,” he said to Holly quietly, rubbing her neck. “You wouldn’t be here without him. The Alexandrians wouldn’t be here without him.” Big eyes inspected him and Paul almost felt like she was asking him something, as if she noticed that he had automatically switched from talking about both men to only one of them. “I like him.” It was strange, hearing his own voice saying that out loud.

“Like who?” sounded Alex’ voice, jostling Paul from his musings, causing Holly to trod away quickly, the treats in his pocket forgotten.

“Alex,” said Paul instead of answering. “How can I help you?”

“Is it Daryl?”

Paul was not used to being transparent and he was mildly irritated at Alex’ tone. Still, he smiled at his ex-lover, “Why were you looking for me?”

Alex sighed, “I just saw you with Holly and wanted… Look, I know our last run wasn’t-we didn’t click well out there.”

Paul laughed at the understatement of the year. Alex had not only been unable to watch his own back, he had actively hindered Paul in completing his tasks by not trusting him to do his job, “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So what?” said Alex. “I don’t need to go out there. We-were good for each other. In here. Look, Eric and Aaron made it work-“

It was kind of mindboggling to Paul that Alex had just compared their three-month fling to the love, respect and loyalty shared between the most wholesome same-sex couple Paul had ever met, both before and after the Turn. Instead of flinging that at Alex, however, he said, “Eric was out there with Aaron for a long time. Eric trusts Aaron to handle himself outside the walls, whether he’s with him or not. They just mutually decided that it would be best if Eric stayed at Alexandria. Eric never tried to keep Aaron inside with him.”

“Is that what you want?” asked Alex. “Because I can leave you alone about that.”

“No, you cannot,” said Paul softly and gently. “It stresses you out and that is okay. It just means we’re not compatible. You need someone who’s less prone to put himself in danger. You need more stability than what I can offer.”

Alex stepped into his comfort zone and Paul tensed a little. The taller man smiled, “I remember us being very compatible.”

Sexually? Yes, they absolutely were and that was the reason why Paul had let himself be talked into a repeat. They even had mutual experiences to draw from, but that was all in the past. In this present day and age, they might as well live on different planets, with Alex being here on Hilltop without truly understanding the world outside of it, or accepting that Paul utterly thrived as a scout.

Paul put a hand on Alex’ chest to keep his distance, but quickly decided that it was a mistake because he could feel the man’s pectoral muscles jump in response.

_Shit._

Alex was gorgeous and Paul was admittedly horny.

The other man definitely saw his reaction because he smiled down at him, “Come on, Paul. You need it. You know I can make you feel good.”

Boy, yes, he really could.

So much so that Paul could practically feel the orgasm, but he knew they would both feel like shit again, once it was over. This was the way this usually went and now that somebody else had entered his orbit – even if said someone was asexual and probably not interested in Paul – it felt utterly wrong.

“Yes, for a night, and tomorrow, we’re right back where it all started. You need someone who fits your needs. You deserve it.” He truly did. Alex was not a bad person. They were just… not meant to be.

“And you think Daryl Dixon suits _your_ needs?” asked Alex, his tone ugly for the first time since Paul knew him, and Paul was suddenly reminded of all the jibes the nurse had aimed at his friend.

“What’s your issue with him?”

“No issue,” said Alex instantly, “just… he’s a bit _slow_ , isn’t he? I mean, God, Paul, you’re so far out of his league, it’s almost funny. You’re smarter than he is, you are well-read, fucking beautiful-“

“-You have seen the man since we returned to Hilltop, right?” interrupted Paul, genuinely annoyed by Alex’ words, yet still trying to keep their conversation light. “That haircut-“

“-Still doesn’t come close to you. Or is that it? You just want to fuck him? I can understand that. His arms-“

“Stop,” said Paul sharply, “that’s enough. Last time we talked, Daryl presented the idea that Hilltop should breed deer to repopulate the area. He’s insanely good at tracking, analyzing, strategizing. He’s quick on the uptake and incredible at improvising. He may have gaps in his education due to his upbringing, but he picks up on new information fast. Much faster than the average.” Bad enough that Daryl thought he was slow; he would not accept Alex feeding into that false belief. “Leave him alone. I mean it.”

Alex scoffed, “Hey, I know better than to butt in where I’m not wanted. Just think you could do better, is all.”

Paul shook his head, “Then you haven’t taken the time to get to know him. Prejudice is ugly. You _know_ that.” The man was gay and originally from West Virginia. He knew.

Alex did not look convinced. Pausing for a moment, he opted to reply honestly, “Guess, I’m jealous. That you’d be after _Daryl Dixon_ and not me.” He scoffed. “Perhaps I should warn him. That you’re good in the sack, but not so much into commitment.”

Paul flinched. That was not fair, but there was enough truth to Alex’ statement that the words stung like hell. Daryl seemed like the kind of guy to only enter exclusive relationships (if this was something the man was even interested in), the kind of person to fully commit. Was Paul even ready to try that?

Who was he kidding, though?

He already knew, he was. He would at least try, and if it turned out that they were incompatible on a sexual level, Paul would do everything to preserve their friendship.

Speaking of the devil, he watched Daryl walk into their trailer not too far away, and without looking back, ignoring Alex’ “Paul, I’m sorry, I didn’-“, he hastened to follow Daryl.

The hunter had been called to the kitchen because of some venison-related question. Desperately thinking of something to say that was not _‘hey, I know you said you were aro/ace, but ever thought about joining a religion? You know, worshipping Jesus? As in, me,’_ he decided to be very honest in a different manner.

As soon as he entered, he blurted out, “I just wanted to say that I am so glad to have stumbled over you and Rick. We were doing well, but with ideas from Reg, Harlan, Maggie, Rick – God, all of you – I think we can change the way we live to something better-are these muffins?” He stared at a batch of brown muffins in Daryl’s hands and his mouth watered in response.

“Mmmhm,” said Daryl thoughtfully. “Chocolate. Mary, Tim and Josephine put their rations together to make them. Said they forgot the taste a’meat and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t forget the taste of chocolate. Want some?”

“God, yes!” exclaimed Paul, far too eager, but then he had not had any chocolate in ages, usually giving his rations to the kids at Hilltop.

“You shouldn’t take your father’s name in vain.”

Giggling, Paul finally fully accepted that he had painfully fallen for the man and, even though it scared the hell out of him, he was too far gone to try and resist.

Having put one muffin into his mouth in one gigantic bite –Paul desperately tried not to think of anything else that could fill the man’s mouth – the hunter said, with his mouth full, “You too, y’know.”

“What?” replied Paul, muffin hovering right by his lips.

“People you listed. You change the world, too. Helped us. Made sure we all work together. Not many who’d do what you did. Take that chance. Not sure if I coulda.”

“Aaron and Rick would vehemently counter that, Mr. Dixon,” smiled Paul softly. Taking a bite, the chocolate flavor instantly hit his tastebuds. Closing his eyes reflexively, he moaned, “Oh, this is fantastic.”

When he opened his eyes again, he was faced with Daryl’s gorgeous gray-blue eyes staring at him, like _he_ was the muffin up for the take.

“Daryl?” he asked softly, swallowing dryly.

The man’s face instantly flushed bright red and he looked down.

“No, don’t,” said Paul. “I like it when you blush. I like a lot of things about you, Daryl Dixon, and that terrifies me.”

“What could you possibly like about me?” was the derisive response. “You’re-and I ain’t…”

“Besides you being brave with a good heart, the best heart, who would do anything for his family, a survivor who never stopped being there for others? Besides you looking like the wet dream of any gay man who ever had the slightest inclination toward the rogue lumberjack type? No idea.”

Daryl blushed even more and Paul smiled.

“I ain’t good at any of that.”

“What?”

“Talkin’…” Daryl mumbled, “More ‘n talkin’. Never done nothing like that. Never wanted anythin’ like that.” He bent his thumb and started biting it; Paul’s heart ached at the man’s discomfort.

“You don’t have to,” said Paul quietly, while his heart pounded in his chest. Perhaps, he had been misreading the man, after all. Maybe, he had a chance that Daryl could be interested. “Nothing you aren’t ready for.”

“Nah, gotta, ‘cause you know what… I don’t-I wanna… I know I said that I didn’t, but I do. With you.” Paul’s breath hitched in his throat. “But I don’t know-“

The older man’s nervousness was what helped Paul overcome his own nerves. They were a good team like that.

“Daryl, I enjoy sex, I love it, and I hope that you might be interested in trying it, some day. But no pressure. I’m good if you want to explore, and if you just want to be friends, “ although he dearly hoped not, “then that’s fine, too.”

“Ain’t no friend.”

Okay, that hurt.

Daryl grabbed his hand to keep him from standing up. He looked frustrated with himself, “See? Ain’t good at that shit. Talkin’. Y’ain’t my friend. Never wanted to-I never,” he ducked his head. “Never had these thoughts about a friend a’mine. Or anyone.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Flattered, actually,” said Paul, utterly relieved. He paused before asking quietly, “Is there anything you want to try now?”

Paul wished he had showered after that damned run. He had to smell something horrid, but then Daryl closed in and the hunter’s musk engulfed him. There was the smell of blood and death, but Paul liked the scent underneath it all. He smelled like forest and healthy earth, the warmth radiating from Daryl lulling him in. There was also the faint taste of cigarettes and leather. Usually, that was a turn-off, but it being Daryl was what made it intoxicating.

“Wanna shower first?” asked Daryl.

For a moment, Paul thought he was invited into the shower and it effectively changed his half-hard situation to full-mast in seconds, until he realized that this wasn’t what Daryl had offered. Instead, the hunter looked innocent and flustered.

“Why? Do I stink?” smiled Paul, willing his own excitement to calm the hell down. He was dealing with very shy prey here and had to tread carefully, just like Daryl had taught his pups.

“Nah,” whispered Daryl. “But yeh don’t like being dirty.”

Dear Sweet Lord, he hoped Daryl _never_ learned dirty talk because Hilltop’s scout would not survive it. Worst of all was that the man did not even try.

“It’s okay,” said Paul hoarsely, leaning in, and Daryl leaned back abruptly causing the younger man to mirror his movements and whispering. “Sorry.”

“Nah, habit, sorry,” whispered Daryl. “Ain’t good with touch.”

“That’s okay. We just do what you’re comfortable with. Why don’t you make the first move? Would that make you feel better?”

Daryl nodded, but did not move. Then, agonizingly slowly, so much so his mere approach curled Paul’s toes, Daryl leaned slightly forward and pressed their foreheads together. It was such a sweet, innocent gesture, Paul wanted to cry. It made him feel warm and protected, and in turn, he felt incredibly protective of the other man. Then two hands were on his cheeks and Paul no longer felt alone. He lifted his hands as well and mirrored the gesture. Then, light as a feather, Daryl leaned forward slightly and his lips were on his, just for a moment, enough to taste the salt, but then they were back in that tender embrace and Paul could not help but think that this was one of the most intimate moments he had ever shared with a lover.


	15. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl thinks about the past, present and future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, people, that's it. Thank you for joining.
> 
> As I said, this won't be the last story between Daryl and Jesus.
> 
> I have another story planned, which will have more plot and character development than this one here, which was basically one fluffy piece of two badasses getting together. It's a Season 1!AU. It'll feature the Atlanta group (with changes), the Greene family (with changes) and some military guys (to which a certain Paul Rovia belongs, even though he'll be technically a civilian). You can either keep an eye out for the story or subscribe to my stories.
> 
> For this last chapter, just a warning: Denise and Daryl are sass queens/kings and Daryl's retort probably counts as pretty vulgar, but nothing that I wouldn't totally expect him to say in the show.

Home was people.

Daryl had learned that, painfully, when the world ended. With every loved one he had lost, a part of him died, and as a coping mechanism, he found himself drifting in the aftermath.

He had drifted away from the group after losing Sophia for good, he had been a wreck after Merle and Hershel died, and then there was Beth’ death, which had broken him in so many different ways, he wondered if he was still the same person he had been before.

He had always been a drifter, even as a young boy following his big brother around like a lost puppy, drifting was his _default setting_ , as Eugene would say.

Whenever he lost someone, his first instinct was to float away, falsely believing it would hurt less. Since meeting Paul, and having his family spread out among three communities – Carol was fine and living in the Kingdom, thank fucking Jesus Christ, and not _his_ Jesus, but the asshole who abandoned humanity – Daryl finally accepted that drifting away was not an option.

Paul made him want to drift no more, and while that should scare the hell out of him, it grounded him in a way he had not felt in a long time.

Or ever.

The reason he had been unable to stay away from the group after Dale’s death had been Rick. Rick who always made him feel like he meant something, like he was someone worth listening to. Then there had been Carol who made him feel like he was a good man, and funny. He loved making her laugh.

Later, there had been Beth who made him want to be better, more open, more willing to _talk._

Paul, though, Paul made him feel all of that and more, without Daryl feeling less for the other members of his family.

And that was the crux of it all.

Merle, he had hated it whenever Daryl talked to people who were not his acquaintances first. In retrospect, Daryl understood that Merle had feared his little brother would forget about ‘good ol’Merle’ if he made friends with other people, people who might point out the older man’s flaws… As if Daryl had not been perfectly aware of them in the first place.

Rick was not like that, but he too jealously guarded their friendship like it was fragile. But then, Daryl had to give the man a break considering that Rick’s best friend and brother had actually tried to kill him after they drifted apart. If he were Rick, he would guard the hell out of any friendship, too.

Then there was Carol who would not hesitate to slit the throat of any person looking at Daryl funny, and while he appreciated her protectiveness, it also made him very cautious to talk to her openly.

Paul was just _there_.

In fact, Daryl had to actively grab the man and put him into to the center of attention, had to practically force a place in the family on him until the message finally stuck. The little ninja was squirrely when it came to family, having gone without one for so long he feared he would not be good at it.

A ridiculous fear, of course. If the group accepted _Daryl Dixon_ , they would take in Paul without any questions asked.

Thank God for Michonne who knocked some sense into the stubborn, shy man – yes, _shy_ , if people believed Daryl was awkward about forming lasting relationships with other human beings, they would not have words to describe Paul. Oh, he was a charmer, eager to make people smile and make them happy, but he was _so bad_ at opening himself up.

Unfortunately for him, he had decided to date Daryl _._

_“That wasn’t a shovel talk. That was a ‘pitchfork and pyre’ talk mixed with actual attempts at crucifixion!”_ Paul had exclaimed after Daryl returned from a hunt, which apparently half of Alexandria had timed to hound Paul into submission.

_“So, what? Kick Rick’s ass. It’ll shut him up,”_ had been Daryl’s reply.

_“I can’t do that!”_

_“Sure you can. You’re a ninja. Lil’ asskicker’s future teacher.”_ It had not even occurred him to ask whether Paul could teach his awesome moves to Judith, but when the younger man was struck dumb at the suggestion, Daryl had suddenly felt nervous. _“I mean. If you want. I didn’t want to presu-“_ Paul had kissed him then.

Daryl loved the kissing.

And the more than kissing.

And the handholding.

And the just being near the other person.

Daryl was a goddamn sap, that was what he was. He swore not even smitten Glenn had been as bad as him. Hell, there were times he talked to family or explained something about hunting to the kids and then all words just fled when Paul entered the same room… or space.

After talking to Rick about his plans with Paul, that he would stay in Hilltop because he felt much more at home in the rural environment compared to the suburban feel of Alexandria, but that he would visit as regularly as the end of the world allowed, and that he planned on having Judith learn from Paul – because she was small and slight like the ninja was and she would need all the fighting prowess she could get – and that Paul made him feel like he was _someone_ (someone good, intelligent, funny. Paul thought he was hilarious), the relationship between Rick and Paul improved drastically.

So much so that they were now teaming up against Daryl when his mind decided to make him feel like he was not _‘every bit as good as them,_ ’ as a wise woman once reminded him.

They spent a lot of time outside of Hilltop, scavenging.

The prick had been replaced by Maggie, as per the wishes of Hilltop’s residents, and Daryl was grateful they had. The aftermath of that post-apocalyptic political mess had been the only time Daryl had witnessed a Paul Rovia out for blood. When the prick decided to poison Maggie, nearly killing Glenn in the process, and then had the gall to flee, Paul had hunted him down with so much skill and predatory fury, it had left Daryl speechless (he was a bit embarrassed just how speechless it left him). Ultimately, Daryl had been able to convince Paul that killing the prick would not help their cause. The man was now locked up in Alexandria after a trial conducted with Reg as judge. That night, after the sentence had been spoken, and Daryl had fallen asleep with Paul in his arms, had been the first time Paul said he loved him. He had not stopped saying it since, looking at Daryl like _he_ was the fucking saint, which was ridiculous. However, when Paul looked at him like that, Daryl actually believed him. And he loved him right back in return.

“Okay, so, any of these books are fine,” said Denise haltingly, bringing him out of his reveries. He took the list from her hands and briefly checked to make sure he got it all. “Seriously, just take what you can and get out of there. Take care of yourself and-“

“We’ll be fine,” said Daryl softly. He had never had a little sister, but with Denise, he certainly felt like a big brother sometimes. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ve got to,” said she, close to tears. “If anything happens to you just because-“

“-you’re about to make this world a better place,” finished Daryl for her. “The risk’s more than worth it.” He could not lie to her. “Look, if something happens, it happens. It has nothing to do with you. Nothing. We would have needed to go to DC someday regardless. Now, we have a better reason to go than I could have dreamed of.”

She pulled him into a hug.

“Be careful out there,” she mumbled into Daryl’s chest, hiding her face. “Or-“

“-or I will kick his ass,” said Paul reassuringly. “And you know I can.”

“From what I heard,” said she cheekily, “you can do a lot of things with his ass.”

Daryl was pretty sure his entire body flushed at the sassy comment, but – not about to be outwitted by his adopted baby sister – he said, “At least, when the two of us eat out, that means a squirrel on a stick, and not a beaver on-“

Tara cackled so loudly, Daryl didn’t even get to finish, especially after Denise put a hand on his mouth, her expression wavering between horror and amusement.

Paul just laughed, “Come on, you two, be nice, or I will tell Mama Maggie.”

“You better not,” said Daryl, horrified. Pregnancy had a terrifying effect on Maggie. “Come on, they’re waitin’.”

Michonne, Sasha and Abraham for Alexandria, Carol for the Kingdom, him and Paul for Hilltop.

Daryl was looking forward to this trip. The law of averages was in their favor, he felt it deep in his bones. He held out his hand and Paul took it in his, softly kissed it before he stepped into the car with Sasha, and Daryl mounted the bike.

It was finally time to seize this world and let the healing begin.

Daryl had spent all of his life surviving. Here and now, he was finally ready to start living. With a smile on his lips waving at Paul who had chosen this exact moment to catch his gaze, he drove off.

No matter where he went, he would have his home right there with him.

**Author's Note:**

> Generally inspired by CanonCannon, but especially the story Animal.


End file.
